


Freely Given

by BasicPlains



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Adult Content, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Masked Vigilante AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25899952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasicPlains/pseuds/BasicPlains
Summary: A Collection of AU one-shots that include adult themes, prompted by friends and foes alike!Each is a unique plot in its own universe- stories are roughly 5-15k each.Smut levels vary.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 140
Kudos: 137





	1. Freely Given (Masked Vigilante AU)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iwillhaveamoonbase](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillhaveamoonbase/gifts).



> A prompt shared with the prolific [iwillhaveamoonbase](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillhaveamoonbase/pseuds/iwillhaveamoonbase) \- you can find their version of the 'vigilante AU' prompt [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25456627/chapters/62771953), along with many other prompts, one of which I referenced directly!
> 
> Originally I just shared with a few folks, but was encouraged to post it as well, so here you are! Please enjoy.

Prince Callum sighed and looked up from his documents, out into the wilderness. The carriage thumped over a root or stone on the back-woods road. He’d double and triple-checked the math, and was sure they’d make quota if he supplemented the total with his own stipend…

A chorus of shouts rang out ahead and behind on the trail as his carriage ground to a halt, startling the prince out of his thoughts, and the door was flung open. As he lunged across the compartment for his weapon, the flat of a sabre slapped down on his wrist, and a foreigner’s curled accent reached his ears. A woman’s voice, almost playful.

“Tut tut, your highness! None of that today. Step outside, please.” The saber’s point lifted to his chest, but allowed him to step down to the road, hands raised in surrender. Callum glanced towards both ends of his caravan, seeing a few roughly-dressed bandits standing idly between him and his escorts, before focusing on his accoster.

A slight figure, though her sword was unwavering and poised. A lacquered white mask and dark hood covered all but her eyes, chin, and mouth, now raised in a smug smirk. The slight lumps in the hood suggested Elven horns, and shining lavender eyes flickered towards the back of the carriage. “To the strongbox, good sir.”

The mask vaguely resembled a downturned crescent moon- not the most subtle choice for a moonshadow elf. Still, her confidence would be rather appealing if not for the situation. None of the prince’s marriage prospects seemed likely to know which end of a sword to hold.

Callum did as he was told. “These are taxes, you know, paid by the rural villages. You’re stealing bread from the mouths of the poor, here.”

The smirk twitched. “I think not- these same villages should have received official receipt of payment from yourself, no? Hurry up now, your highness. Daylight is burning.”

No average brigand, this. “Fine. But there  _ will  _ be repercussions for your actions today.” He unlocked the heavy chains securing the chest to the carriage’s tailboard.

The bandit snapped her fingers, and two larger men broke away from their fellows and came to secure their loot, hauling it off into the woods. The swordpoint shifted against Callum’s tunic, herding him back towards the carriage door. 

The masked bandit called out to the Katolin troops. “No one is to follow them, understood?”

Heavy silence filled the air, and one of the lackeys snickered. Eyes rolled behind the mask. “Perhaps you’d best order them yourself, highness?” She backed him against the carriage.

Clearing his throat, Callum repeated her order, answered by a few dull “yes, your highness”es from his guards. At her whistle, the group of attackers abandoned their leader, loping off into the woods after the chest.

The mask-wearer waited until all noise from their retreating cohort faded, smiling brightly all the while, side-eying the caravan guards. Eventually she announced her intentions. “Right! Let’s get a move on, shall we, everyone? Into the carriage.” A sword at your chest was difficult to argue with, and she pressed him all the way back into his seat while stepping up into the carriage herself and closing the door.

His apparent captor drew the shades, blocking out most of their light as they began rolling again. She wagged the sword up and down. “Can we be civil here, or must I hold this to you all day?”

Callum stiffened. “I should be asking that of  _ you _ , I think.”

“As you say.” With one last glance over him, she shifted her grip and stabbed the weapon into the floorboard between them, where it wobbled back and forth on its thin blade. Callum lowered his hands to his lap and tried to relax while she spoke. 

“I know you’re no cruel sadist, unlike some of your peers. How will you resolve this little money issue we’ve caused?”

“I’ll cover it myself.”

Gloved hands dusted each other, flecking dirt to the carriage floor. “Rewriting the books a bit? Not surprising, I suppose.”

“Personal funds. I’ve naught to spend it on, besides…” Orphanages and unfortunate widows or widowers, but she didn’t need to know that, and he didn’t want to share.

“Drink? Whores? I’d think royalty would have to pay for neither.”

Callum sighed. “What I spend my money on is no business of yours.”

That earned a smile, somehow. “And yet, here we are. Keep your secrets, then, prince.”

He took some initiative. “What will you do with the tax money? You seem well-dressed and well-fed enough.”

“Return it.”

“What?”

“Return it to those you taxed, that is. And perhaps the court’s finance council will take note and ease off the common folk, if we continue the same elsewhere.”

A popular notion, these days. For a bandit’s purpose, hers seemed rather noble, in concept.

“Very well. I will add your complaints to my own, Lady…?” A lame ploy, but he needed to do  _ some _ thing.

The eyes rolled again. “Oh please, Prince Callum. But very well, call me Crescent.” She tapped the white mask. “I’m sure you’ll be hearing the name often enough.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she considered his words.

He truly did relax then, ignoring the sword between them. He couldn’t approve of their methods, but Crescent’s ideals seemed aligned with his own. She must have been thinking along similar lines.

“I think we’ll get along quite well, prince. Royals are always such a terrible bore, but you’ve caught my interest.”

“Please don’t rob me again.”

That earned a soft snort of amusement. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”

The face behind the mask twisted as she flexed her arms and arched her back in a catlike stretch, causing an upward shift of her tunic to expose a span of toned flesh to his eyes. A hearty chuckle drew him away. “Charmed so easily, your highness?”

With her weapon out of play, this was closer to ballroom banter. He shifted tactics to match. “How not? I was enchanted by that flash of mischief in your luminous eyes.”

When she turned to face him directly, he could easily imagine an eyebrow rising coyly behind the mask. “Hmm.” The smirk returned, though small. “I’m in the mood to play. My eyes  _ are  _ quite nice, I admit, but I’ve heard it enough. Try again.”

Callum blinked. “Your… dazzling smile-”

“- is the only other part of my face you can see. Dull. _Do_ try again, your highness. What is it you were ‘enchanted’ by?”

The prince took a moment to study the woman, who raised her chin and rolled one shoulder back invitingly, nearly preening before him. He leaned forward and let his eyes track down her body, examining the cut of her clothing as intently as he did the swell of her hips. A mix of foreign styles. Damn. 

Her swordwork was likely a point of pride, but that wasn’t the game they were playing. Nothing wrong with a little honesty. “Your ass, which puts all others to shame.”

Her eyes widened, lips parting just slightly before she reeled back with laughter, covering her mouth with the back of one hand. It was throaty and full, a far cry from the tittering of his suitors. “Why, Prince Callum! You’ve not laid eyes on my backside just yet _. _ ”

Giving her a smirk of his own, he leaned back again. “Perhaps not, but it sounds as though you have designs for such an occasion?”

“I didn’t, and now you’ve slowly changed my mind.” That… worked? “Are you betrothed, your highness? I’ve not heard news of a wedding.”

He kept up with the swing in conversation. “Not yet, only visited by prospective mai...dens...”

As he spoke, she’d stood and planted a hand on the carriage wall above him. When he trailed off she slipped a leg between his closing knees and forced them apart. In the silence, she leaned down, her face only a handspan away, eyes searching his. His breaths shortened, and his body tensed. This wasn’t a game any longer.

“All the better. I’d hate for you to break some poor damsel’s heart.”

She leaned in, but stopped a frustratingly short distance from his lips. “Though I’m no courtly mai-” Callum boldly silenced her with a kiss. Crescent tasted of wildberries, and after her initial shock, she returned the gesture with threefold passion, bringing her loose hand up to tangle in his hair.

Swept into the moment, Callum’s fingertips began trailing up her legs... and the carriage thumped over another obstacle, jostling them apart.

Crescent sighed heavily as Callum regained his balance. The bandit snapped up her saber and sheathed it, turning to eye him. “Unfortunately for us both, this is where we part ways. You asked politely, but I felt the need to steal one last thing from you.” She tsked as he hurriedly felt his pockets. “The kiss, your highness.”

Callum blushed, but nodded in farewell. “Something freely given isn’t stolen. Until next time, Lady Crescent.”

That earned a smirk, and when she turned to throw the door open, he may have imagined her bending over a little more than necessary- giving him an opportunity to appreciate the view? One last low chuckle sounded as she swung up and onto the roof of the vehicle, then another thump on the roof signalled her departure. The shouting started up again.

Callum grabbed his sword from the far seat and leaned out of the open door himself, catching a glimpse of a lithe figure swinging from a rope up into the boughs high above them. An accomplice was hauling on the rope even as she climbed.

“Stop! Don’t fire upwards!” They were just as likely to injure each other or their animals.

His guards along the caravan lowered their crossbows, and his assigned crownguard Marcos jogged up from the rear. Callum waved him away before he could start. “Don’t worry, I’m unharmed, and I’ll file your report honestly. You can count on that.” The relief in the man’s eyes was clear, and Callum turned back to watch the strange woman make off into the green.

☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ 

The sun would be up within an hour, and the official rights to a great span of the local forest were safely tucked into a saddlebag. Rayla readied the mare as quickly as she could, calming the beast with a gentle hand and soft words.

She froze as the stable’s gate creaked open. Footsteps across the hard-packed dirt. Please. Just this once…

The latch jostled, and she groaned inwardly while drawing her saber. The door swung open, and she lunged forward- then blinked.

“Prince Callum! What a pleasant surprise.” She hadn’t expected royalty at this manorhouse. It had only been maybe a thirdmoon since they’d last met.

His own eyes widened, and the man heaved a great sigh while letting his head loll back in exasperation. “Can we not do this right now? Just take whatever it is you want and leave, please.”

A fortunate turn of phrase. She sheathed her sword. “Perfect! Do you dance, your highness? That’s what I want right now.”

“Um. Not without music.”

“Come now! I know it’s early for you humans, but play along, would you? Your hands, please.” She took one in her own and drew the other to her shoulder, while she dropped hers to his waist.

He blinked. “Wait, this is backwards.” She’d swept him away, again, so easily. It was adorable.

Her trademark smirk tugged at her mouth. “Not this morning it isn’t. Come.” She hummed a tune and began.

The prince did an admiral job of keeping up, even on his back foot while she led. Well enough that he felt the need for conversation.

“Please tell me you didn’t actually stalk me to do this.”

“No, but it’s a nice bonus.” He stumbled when she dropped her hand to squeeze his rear. “Ah, only used to proper dancing?”

“And not even that, you could say.” The bewildered look was already melting off his face. “I’m really not in the mood to ‘play,’ as you put it.”

She let go immediately and stepped back. “Ah. A shame. Shall I be off?”

“No.” Callum drew his own sword and leveled it towards her. “Give back whatever it is you’ve stolen today.”

Rayla sighed. “You’re certain you wish to cross swords with the most ill-reputed outlaw in the western kingdoms? The champion of the common people, the living nightmare of every penny-pinching accountant?”

The prince gestured towards the sword at her hip. “Your words. An outlaw. I must follow the laws of my lands, Lady Crescent.”

“As you wish.” She drew and rushed him, attacking in a textbook pattern. He parried perfectly, and returned following a similar chain of slashes. “Aha- so you’ve had instruction.” 

“Since I was eight.”

“What a coincidence.”

Their next exchange ended with him cutting through her outermost layer’s billowing sleeve. The tunic hung loose on her frame, and she plucked at the cut, tutting. Giving a slow nod of approval to the prince, she circled before renewing her attacks.

He was good. Better than her in this structured style. The intense, focused look on his face distracted her at the wrong moment, and her sword was twisted from her grip, clattering to the ground. The prince leveled his sword at her again, slowly pushing her back.

“Well.” She cleared her throat. “This is awkward.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Not used to being on the receiving end of things, are you?”

“Not in _any_ _way_ you can imagine.”

That broke a smile across his face, but he didn’t answer. Off in his mind, imagining. Good.

“Is there any way I could… broker a deal, here? Hm?” She plucked at the collar ties of her tunic and buckle of her belt.

That made him withdraw the blade, frowning. “I’m no beast, Lady Crescent.” Not very aggressive, then. Though she knew that already, to an extent. “Take off the mask.”

That was too far. “No.”

“Then you leave me no choice.” The sword came up again.

“As you say.” She spun into him, throwing her cloak up and around his grip in a practiced move. Rolling away from the abandoned clothing, she came up on his other side with her own saber. Rayla waited for him to cast the cloak away and raise his weapon. “I’ll give you the outlaw, then.”

She lowered her stance, and Callum narrowed his eyes. Their first exchange was short, and she cut three buttons from his doublet, exposing a bit of his toned chest.

“Not bad, Prince Callum. More muscle than I’d expect from a noble.”

He was frowning now, annoyed at his training’s impotence against her. When she passed his guard again she expertly cut the belt from his waist and was disappointed when his trousers stayed up.

It must have shown on her face. “I’ll send your compliments to my tailor.” Though he seemed to be enjoying himself now, somehow?

In short order, she gracefully knocked his weapon away and sent him stumbling back with more of a shove than a kick. Prince Callum fell completely backwards into a haystack, and she took the opportunity to leap atop him, stabbing her own sword upright into the hay. Rayla settled for straddling his hips. “You put up so little fight I almost think you were aiming for this, Your Highness!”

Callum’s chest heaved slightly, sweat running down his neck and chest, and she took the opportunity to slowly unbutton the rest of his doublet, pulling the end from his trousers. Rayla slapped away the hand that came up, and pushed him further down when he tried to rise. She ground her hips against his and the prince’s eyes snapped open in shock.

“Take whatever I want, yes?” Rayla had only known women, but she wanted Callum. Now. She leaned forward, taking his unprotesting lips with hers, kissing down his neck as she ran a hand up his chest. Had she caught him up again?

He spoke. “I-”

“Yes?”

“I’ve never-” Oh!

Rayla sat up straight, both hands on his stomach. “Truly?”

“Not… everything.” 

So  _ that  _ was the way of it. Still, if his more rapid breathing, dilated pupils and the new hardness pressing between her thighs were any indicator, he seemed willing. And he wasn’t denying her…

Damn. That revelation had been enough to take her out of it. And she was needed elsewhere, besides.

“I  _ see _ . Perhaps another time. Allow me to grant you a parting memory.” She ground harder against his swell, pressing their lips together again as he groaned in sweet suffering. Much against her wishes, she forced herself up and away, recovering and sheathing her saber.

“Have a  _ very  _ nice day, your highness.”

Callum’s disbelieving face dropped back to stare at the ceiling as she turned away, heading for the mare. She scooped up a fallen button from his doublet as a souvenir.

☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ 

The accommodations were hardly royal, but more than enough. Callum’s retainers had scrounged up a large tub and found an isolated room to hold it, allowing the prince to enjoy a much-needed soak. This tour through a few towns had left him hardly presentable for the luncheon scheduled tomorrow.

He watched the candles flicker for a moment, adding a little more rosemary and lavender oil to his bath. Taking a deep breath, he submerged himself for a ten-count, scrubbing gently at his face and scalp with the pads of his fingertips.

Callum resurfaced with a contented sigh, pushing his hair back out of his face and leaning back, arms along the rim of the tub. He just about jumped out of his skin when a hand clapped over his mouth from behind while another rested gently on his shoulder. Water splashed as he thrashed and tried to rise, but the hands tightened as a familiar voice filled his ears.

“Hush, Your Highness. It’s only your favorite rogue.”

Lady Crescent. Callum relaxed back into the bath and sighed against her hand, which dropped to his other shoulder. “Must you be so difficult?” The open window was a poor choice, it seemed. He should have steamed himself alive.

“Of course! That’s half the fun!”

“And the other half?” He tried to turn his head, but a hand playfully gripped his jaw and turned him forward again.

“Can’t fill in the blank yourself, Prince Callum?” Her hands ran slowly down his arms, her grip sliding along the slickness of the oiled water on his skin. 

Callum found his head easing back, relaxed, until he collided with something stiff. “You wear that damn thing in the bath?”

His favorite chuckle filled the room. “Not my own, no. Only when I decide to indulge young royals with some Xadian bathing goods.”

Turning one of his hands over to engulf hers, he asked “Will you take it off?”

“No.” Rather deadpan, but he persevered and drew the hand to his lips.

“For me?” The numerous scars on her thin limb tugged at his heart, and he kissed a particularly nasty one near her wrist, willing it away.

“Hmm…” Lady Crescent muttered something foreign under her breath, and took her hands back. A half-moment later the mask joined the bath oil on the low table at-hand. He tried to turn again, but the same hand gripped his face more roughly than before and faced him away. “You win this bit, but don’t push it, Your Highness.”

One day.

He sighed heavily, but theatrically. “Very well, Lady Crescent. So what of these ‘Xadian bathing goods’ you mentioned?”

The hand on his face lowered along his neck to his chest, and the other brought a twine-wrapped parcel into his view. “You bathe with lavender and rosemary, yes? I’ve brought you something of a  _ specialty  _ from Xadia. Moonlily soap. I’ve heard it matches well with your oils. Allow me.”

Her soft chest was pressing against his back now, and she unwrapped the soap herself, tossing the twine aside. The soap had been wrapped in a washing cloth, which she lathered generously before running it gently across his chest and down his arms. 

It  _ did _ smell good. Calming.

The other four-fingered hand played through the suds, tracing around his nipple and along the lines of his faint muscles. This was… nice, but embarrassing.

“What am I, a dog? I can wash myself.”

“You can think of this as an apology for our last meeting. Just a bit of service.”

“I find it hard to believe anything you do is a simple gesture, Lady Crescent.”

She hummed in thought. “Well, you aren’t wrong. I’m here to lay a claim on you- if your other suitors smell my moonlilies, I’ll have already defeated them.”

Callum took a moment to process. And re-process. “You’re… this is your way of  _ courting  _ me?”

“I took it a bit fast in the stables, didn’t I? Yes. That is my intention.” Her hand dipped into the water, running down his stomach.

He didn’t protest, and drew his shoulder down, giving her a longer reach. The dark chuckle against his ear had him swallowing a groan of desire.

“Why, Your Highness, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re more than happy to see me.” She teased him, palming his erect length. 

Callum gripped the sides of the tub, tensing. “But I  _ can’t _ see you.” He complained, straining against another moan.

“Not today, I’m afraid. My, my, how did I miss this weapon during our duel? A fatal mistake.” She stroked him slowly, and lifted in her seat as her second hand came up to cover his eyes. Lady Crescent’s lips planted under his ear, then again and again down his neck, suckling the tender artery there.

The prince gasped when she nipped him lightly and squeezed roughly at once. Her lips raised back to his ear. “I’m eager to know you better, Price Callum.”

Crescent’s voice filled his blanking mind, and he shuddered against her, then whined faintly as her hands came away. He blushed, surprised at his own reaction, but his companion paid it no heed.

“But we can’t interrupt a bath, I’m afraid!” She scrubbed more of the moonlily suds into his hair. “Down.” He released the tub and let her push him underwater, washing the soap from his hair. Her hands retreated, and he took a moment to make a second pass of cleaning himself.

Rising, he made a small play and flung his head back, sending an arc of water towards his accoster. No reaction? He turned, no hand stopped him, and he found himself alone in the room again.

Callum noticed the mask was missing, and took the pale bar from the stand to breathe its scent deeply. Moonlilies.

☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ 

“I still think you drew her too beautifully. This isn’t what ‘wanted’ notices are supposed to look like, Callum!” Soren had unrolled a copy and was flapping it in the prince’s face.

“Can you not? This is a formal occasion. People are staring.” They weren’t, but they didn’t need to start.

“No one cares. Seriously though, you drew the mask, but her eyes are like… crazy detailed. Make them hard and mean, not soft and happy!”

Callum looked at the paper, and saw the same glittering amusement that captured his attention to begin with. “I drew her exactly the way she looked while holding a sword to my chest, Soren. What more do you want?”

The herald announced more guests- many had yet to arrive. “ _ Lord Ilovar and Lady Serenis of the Wandering Tribe! _ ”

Another Elven pair. No moonshadows had entered the ball yet... Calum shook his head, refocusing on his long-time friend. He’d caught his mind wandering to her for weeks, now. Enough was enough.

He put an arm most of the way around the crownguard’s broad shoulders.“Why don’t we forget Lady Crescent for tonight? Let’s have one of those stupid drinking games you’re always bringing up.”

Soren brightened immediately, stuffing the notice back into his vest. “Oh man, really? It’s been  _ ages _ since I’ve seen you wasted. Nothing important tonight, eh?” He raised his eyebrows a few times. “No lucky ladies caught your eye?”

“No, Soren, just… get us some drinks, would you? I don’t want to lose this spot.” It was a relatively secluded corner, mostly hidden by a slightly over-large pillar.

The larger man clapped Callum on the back, nearly staggering him. “Be right back!” With that, Soren disappeared into the crowd.

“ _ Lady Oriana and Lady Rayla, of The Silvergrove! _ ”

Now  _ that  _ was a moonshadow city. He couldn’t help himself, and leaned around the pillar to watch their entrance. It was only polite, after all...

The two women wore shimmering silver veils draped over their heads- they seemed to be attached to their horns somehow, but flowed forward and obscured most of their faces. That was frustrating.

The leading lady wore a subtly-blended purple dress, and her companion a mirrored piece in forest green. Purple was too tall, but green… he’d need to speak with her. As the elves reached the bottom of the staircase and entered the crowd, his friend reappeared with a tray of full glasses.

“What in- Really, Soren? I’m not trying to die tonight.”

The tray settled atop an ornamental vase between them, and a glass was pushed into his hand. “No, but you  _ are  _ trying to loosen up, right? I’ll start easy on you. Drink for each woman here you want to talk to before this night’s over.”

As Soren started to gulp his beverage, Callum realized he was expected not to drink at all. But there was someone, now, and he wanted to talk to her enough to count for ten. He chugged the glass, setting it gently back onto the tray. 

“What?”

Soren had been staring. “Nothing, nothing.” He took another swallow. “But really? Who?”

Callum retrieved another glass. “Either Lady Oriana or Lady Rayla. Whichever is wearing green.”

“ _ Lord Estaban and Lord Canut, of the Independent Isles!” _

“Oh, the elves?  _ Heeeey  _ I thought you said we should forget about La- oh.”

He was looking over Callum’s shoulder when he cut off, and a new voice rose behind him. A familiar voice, with a familiar accident.

“May I share a drink, your highness?”

Callum switched on the Prince, schooling his face and winking at Soren, who nodded and turned away, before turning himself to address Lady Crescent. It was the elf in green. Even so close, through the veil he could only vaguely make out a pair of eyes, and small dark markings beneath them. Those would fit under the mask, and even explain it.

“Of course, though it seems you have me at a disadvantage, Lady…?” The strange irony of asking for her name a second time wasn’t lost on him.

“Rayla.  _ Just  _ Rayla.” She gave a shallow curtsy, but pulled the cut of her dress aside to reveal far more bare leg than courtly modesty allowed. Then again, they were essentially alone in the corner, now. Was she here to ‘play’ once more? Or was this another ploy?

He bowed in return, seeing the barest hint of a smirk on her lips, then offered her a glass. “I appreciate that. Just Callum for me, then, La-” he caught himself. “Rayla.” That same scar was visible on her wrist when she accepted the drink. He made no effort to hide his noticing.

“Old habits, as they say. Cheers to a change of pace, Callum.” Their glasses clinked together, and Callum sipped politely, watching in stunned silence as Rayla drew back the veil and finished her drink in one pull before dropping it back to the tray, taking another. 

The eyes were exactly the same, and the dark color of her horns contrasted against the silver of her hair, veil, and… mask. Not identical, this one more ornate, and it exposed more of her cheeks, revealing the tips of her dark Elven markings.

Callum blinked away his shock- he couldn’t let this change slip away. “So,  _ Rayla _ ,” he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Are you here tonight on business, or… pleasure?”

She closed the distance between them almost completely, their toes nearly touching. “Perhaps both?” A fingertip traced a small circle on his chest before her cup switched hands. “Personal business, though.”

The prince forced down his instincts to reach for her and kept his voice as low as possible. “And you require… assistance?” Why else would she come straight to him?

The low chuckle again, music to his ears. “With the pleasure? Certainly.”

He ignored the open invitation, his body screaming at him to accept. “With your personal matter.”

Rayla’s eyes hardened, but her smirk stayed strong. “Not directly. What do you say to us ditching this stuffy affair? I’ve never been inside a castle before today.”

Ah. She was  _ good  _ at leading him.

Callum took a half step back, finishing his glass and leaving it on the tray, before extending his elbow. “In that case, may I give you the tour, Rayla?”

The lavenders rolled, but her sigh wasn’t entirely exasperation. She hooked a hand through his arm. “I accept your kind offer.”

Guiding them along the edge of the room, Callum led her through the servant’s entrance, nodding politely as they passed men and women ferrying trays of food and drinks to and from the ballroom.

He waved to a surprised Barius as they walked through the kitchens. “Care for a tart? Katolin specialty.” 

Rayla surprised him by snagging one. “Not bad. A tad sweet for my taste. Here.”

Swallowing the half she offered over, he admitted “mine too, but don’t tell my brother. He’d disown me.” Another chuckle, ended too soon.

Callum took his time, walking her through the more public areas- the garden, the library, along the hall with the best views through its windows. Rayla hummed politely and examined every tapestry or historic painting he brought her towards, but made no outward comments.

“Is there something… particular I could show you?”

“Our people were not always so friendly, Callum.” An understatement. The war had only officially ended six years prior.

“Sadly. And?”

“In all that time, each side may have… recovered objects that belonged to the other. Something is here that is needed in Xadia.”

She was right. Some elven weaponry and similar foreign things were stored in the castle. And he knew the feeling- his mother’s body was never recovered from the battle she was lost in.

The memory, and the flicker of sadness that accompanied it, made him instinctively reach a comforting hand towards Rayla. He caught himself and switched to scratching the back of his neck. “I see. What is it, if I can know? I may be able to help.”

Rayla watched him, her mouth moving from a grimace to biting her lip as she considered. “A necklace. Silver, with a purple stone pendant. Simple but elegant.”

Callum’s mental catalogue called a matching piece to mind. “This way.” He took them to an empty meeting room, and hesitated only the briefest moment before a bookcase. Ez would like her. Probably. The third volume of a treatise on insect life unlatched the hidden door, and the case swung inward silently.

He didn’t bother to check her reaction and closed the door behind them, leading her towards the dull blue glow of the inner tunnels.

“Are all human castles like this?”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

They eventually turned into a storage room, completely pitch dark.

“Ah, damn. We’ll have to-”

“No. I can see. Where is it?” Moonshadow elf. Right.

Callum concentrated, pointing vaguely off to the left. “A tall dresser. Lots of small drawers.”

Rayla took his arm and dragged him into the darkness. She let go, and he heard drawers being opened and shut. “No… no, no, no! It’s not here! Are you  _ certain _ about this?” One four-fingered hand closed on his shoulder.

“Yes! Let me think.” He cycled through memories of the room. Weapons on one side, accessories and armor on the other… the tall jewelry box… wait. “It’s magic, isn’t it?”

A sigh in the dark. “Yes. Does it matter?”

“There should be a chest towards the back of the room. Blackened wood. They’d have moved magical artifacts into it.”

She pulled him further into the room. “Locked, damn. You don’t have the key, do you?”

Callum took a deep breath, palming a small carnelian in his pocket. “No, but I could probably… listen. I know we’re in a rush here but I need to tell you something.”

Her voice held more than a pinch of amusement as a finger tapped the side of his nose. “I’m over here.”

He blushed at the ridiculous situation, but turned towards her. Probably. “No one can know what I’m about to show you, Rayla. You will be the fifth person alive with this knowledge. I trust you. You’re a wanted woman in Katolis, you’ve stolen royal funds and you held me at swordpoint, but I still trust you. I want any rift between our peoples mended. Show me the lock.”

He lifted a hand in the dark and she gently took his wrist, then it brought it upwards, and a soft kiss pressed into his palm. “Thank you, Callum. For your trust, and for what you’re doing here.” He nodded, feeling a little odd to make the gesture in the dark.

She dragged his hand away and down, low enough to make him kneel. The lock itself was thick iron, too much for any pick either of them might have. He thumbed the thing to find the keyhole, tapping into the red stone in his hand, and Rayla gasped as he traced a shining sun rune in the air, muttering  _ “maio calore _ .”

His tracing finger superheated into a blinding white that he needed to close his eyes against, and he slowly pushed into the lock, the metal hissing and popping as it turned to slag around the digit. The chest quickly opened against his push, and Callum ended the spell immediately, holding the lid ajar to keep the metal from resealing itself.

With the former lock cooled enough to not damage the chest’s contents, he threw back the lid and shuffled away, letting Rayla look for her necklace. She didn’t comment on his magic, only dug through the box. The clink of metal and stone, the shuffling of cloth. A dull light glowing out of a pouch, all set aside.

“Ah!” The shuffle of her dress as she stood. A faint tinkling of thin metal. “This is it! My father’s…”

Callum tentatively reached out, managing to touch her elbow. “Let’s get out of here.”

She took his hand in hers. “Thank you, Callum. There is  _ one  _ more place I’d like to visit, before the night ends.”

☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ 

Rayla wasted no time after the door closed behind them, spinning to push him back against it. Her lips worked feverishly against his as their hands busied themselves with eachother’s clothing.

Her dress pooled around her feet while she threw his belt off to the side, thoroughly sick of the two dozen buttons she’d barely kept from ripping away. She pressed her face to his neck and breathed.

“You kept the soap.”

“R-Rayla.”

“Mm. Callum.”

“The bed.”

She held back an impatient growl and dipped a hand into his pants, gripping his manhood to lead him by. Callum’s eyes jumped open as she took a step back, and he reached for her shoulder to steady himself, but she playfully knocked it away with a smirk.

He swallowed roughly, and she slowly walked them back to his bed, stroking him to his apex.

“You’re docile enough to really be inexperienced, I’ll give you that. Won’t you show me some of that fight from before, Callum?”

The green of his eyes hardened, and he reached for her face, then touched her mask-  _ that  _ hand she struck away more firmly. “Try that again and this ends now.” She squeezed him as a reminder.

Stepping closer, his hands rested briefly on her hips before sliding back over the ass he’d claimed enchanted him. Rayla chuckled against his lips, and he moaned into a mouth as he squeezed

“Better.” Tripping him expertly over her foot, she shoved the prince down onto his bed and took a hold of the ends of his pants, tugging them away. His manhood seemed… average? She’d not laid eyes on an aroused man before, but was neither intimidated or disappointed. 

This should work just fine. Rayla knew what she liked, and could already tell she was ready herself.

“Well, Your Highness, I’m here for one more thing, yet again.”

He laughed- “Seriously? Titles?”

Her smallclothes hit him square in the face. Four-fingered hands ran up his legs, and she kissed up one, earning a sharp gasp with a few along his shaft, and up his stomach and chest until she stayed on his lips. She rolled her bare hips against his, humming into the kiss.

“Yes. Now, are you as ‘freely giving’ as before?”

Large human hands skimmed up and down her back as she ground down on him, and his eyes moved between hers. His answer was breathy and hoarse. “I am.”

“Perfect.” Rayla rose up, aligning him with her juncture. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, slowly lowering down-

“Look at me.”

Interrupted! “What?”

“Look me in the eyes while it happens.”

That… was not what she was used to. But she acquiesced, leaning forward and moving a hand to his chest for balance. Those emerald eyes shimmered with heat and his mouth slowly fell open as she took him in.

Slowly, slowly… she lifted once, then continued until their bodies met completely. Rayla rested more of her body weight as she struggled to grow used to the sensation of him. This wasn’t quite like the digits or implements she’d employed with past lovers. She could feel him twitch.

“Rayla…” Callum’s voice was choked and heavy with wanting.

He’d dropped the game before starting. Ah, well- it was a bit endearing. “Are you hurt?” She was sure he wasn’t, and wiggled her hips.

His eyelids fluttered shut. “Anything but hurt! Please- can we…”

Of course he was eager, but she’d heard stories of fresh men. “Relax, Callum. Touch me.”

Rayla set a steady pace, allowing his breathing to settle while hIs hands roved over her body, and she marvelled at their heat. She needed more, and said as much. “Touch me more!” Rayla guided him to her breast, and he clumsily thumbed her nipple while his other hand gripped her thigh.

She picked up the pace and he gasped, but began bucking lightly against her, and the familiar heat built hotter within. A low groan was rising in the back of her throat, but he interrupted her again, panting. 

“W-wait! I-”

“Just don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop!” She let a hand trail down her stomach to her nub, intent on finishing, since he sounded near his limit.

It was her turn to gasp in surprise as he pulled her down against him, chest to chest, and clung to her as if for dear life while his instincts surged and he took the pace. One hand’s fingers through her hair, the other pushing down on her ass while he thrust up into her. Was he larger than before?

He wasn’t going to last, and she worked herself furiously to her peak while he moaned her name into one pointed ear. That, of all things, sent her over the edge, and Rayla bit into the juncture of his neck and shoulder to keep from screaming aloud. Callum’s rutting slowed and his long, strained groan weakened along with his grip on her.

They panted against each other for what could have been an hour- Rayla’s vision swam, her senses filled with Callum, and he turned to kiss her between heaving breaths.

“You’re- gorgeous- a work- of art.”

He couldn’t mean that, scarred as she was. “Don’t be stupid, you can’t even…” her hand reached up to tap the mask, and hit bare skin.

Ah.

Damn.

Well. Too late now.

“...see in the dark.”

“I can in the moonlight. Rayla, you’re the most beautiful, captivating person I’ve ever laid eyes on or spoken with.”

“Bah, you’re just saying that because we’ve knocked boots. And because you know I can thrash you with one hand.” She ran a hand through his hair. “Keep it up, though, and perhaps you’ll get another go tonight.”

He looked embarrassed. “I really don’t think-”

“Patience, Your Highness. I’ll distract you a while.”

She looped an arm around his neck and pulled him to roll over on top of her.

“Now kiss me.”

☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ 

“Bring her.”

Chains clinked, his tent flap parted, and Corvus dragged Rayla before him, shackled and still masked, before forcing her to kneel. Callum gritted his teeth at the sight while she managed a wheezed greeting.

“Your Highness... So good to see you again.”

She hunched to one side. A horn was chipped, an ear cut and bleeding. More scars. She never knew when to  _ stop _ . That ended today.

“Leave us.”

The tracker and nearby attendant startled, while Soren closed his eyes with a sigh. The crownguard took control. “You heard the prince, let’s get a move on. This is personal.”

His oldest friend could never keep the truth out of things, but it was good cover. Lady Crescent’s first escapade with the Katolin tax money he’d collected was a local legend by now. With the flap closed, he retrieved a kit from his chest and knelt before his lover, dabbing at her open wounds with Elven cleaning agents she’d given him herself.

In a hushed voice, he asked, “Are you gravely hurt?” He left the chains, knowing any rattling would have guards inside immediately.

“Not today. Maybe cracked ribs.” Her chuckle was cut off by a wincing choke of pain.

“This is over now, you know. No more Lady Crescent.”

Hard lavenders glared from behind the mask.

“Rayla  _ please.  _ You’ve been caught. Too many people have seen this today. My plan to get you away from here is foolish enough!”

“What am I supposed to do, Callum? Let Councillor Viren  _ win _ ? When I cut that crescent moon into his cheek, that was my declaration to-”

“No! No, don’t give up. Use another method.”

She frowned, a prompt for him to continue.

“Change things from within. Marry me.”

Rayla’s eyes widened, and she looked away, mumbling “don’t be stupid.” That wasn’t a no, and she only said  _ that  _ when he was overwhelming her with emotion.

He brought her gaze back with a fingertip on her chin. “I’m not being stupid. I’ve thought about this for weeks now. Don’t fight the rules, Rayla.  _ Change _ them. With me.”

There was conflict in her, and he let go. Pushing too hard never worked, so he’d let her find an answer in her own time.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

Callum helped her up as best he could, then picked up his camp shovel and took the lead of her chains in-hand.

☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ ☽ ☾ 

Callum shut the door behind himself and sighed. What a day- the artbitation never ended.

“Rayla?” he called out for his wife, then noticed the suspiciously empty frame halfway up the staircase. 

The game was afoot.

He crept up the stairs, vaulting the creaking landing, and slowly peered through their bedroom door. A cloaked, shapely figure was hunched over their dresser, picking through his clothing. Callum sprung through the doorway, looping an arm around the ‘intruder.’

“Ah, Lady Crescent? We meet a...gain.”

Rayla wore nothing beneath the cloak, save the mask that typically hung, framed, on their wall.

“Your Highness! So good to see you!” She snapped a finger before his face, startling him from his stupor. “It seems you’ve caught me in just the mood! Away with these!” She plucked at his clothes while he laughed, holding her closer.

“As you wish...”


	2. No Promises (Adult Club AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla is working strictly as a waitress in an Adult club, and Callum is brought in by Soren to lose his virginity.

Nyx was trying to convince her again. “All I’m saying, Rayla, is that you should give it a chance! It’s _empowering_ to have them wrapped around your finger!” The skywing nudged her with an elbow, rubbing her thumb and fingertips together. “Plus, y’know, the _cash._ ”

“Not happening, Nyx. I’m good with splitting the bar’s tips, thanks.” Rayla tugged on her fishnet sleeves, already wearing the matching stockings.

Her coworker sighed. “Suit yourself. Omari called in sick, so I’ll leave room three open for you, if you change your mind!” The last was shouted through the closed door to the dressing room.

Rayla sighed. An understaffed Friday meant the customers were going to be extra handsy with the service side, including her.

Perfect.

\-------------------------------------------------

The music was just loud enough to be jarring- Callum tried to ignore it, squinting across the nightclub’s smokey dance stage, but the beat physically _thumped_ in his chest. A finger tapped his shoulder.

“Come on, dude. There has to be at least ONE girl here that’s caught your eye!”

“I dunno, Soren…”

His long-time friend had insisted on ‘treating’ him, to return a favor, and Callum agreed, expecting them to sit down at a pizza or burger joint, not walk into a seedy club.

“Caaaaallum! You’re too uptight! This is why we’re here, man! To finally get you _laid._ ”

“Can you not make it sound so pathetic?”

Soren chuckled, wrapping an arm around his smaller friend’s shoulders. “No can do! It _is_ kind of pathetic, since you’re almost twenty two. But relax! I’ve heard there are girls out there who _prefer_ virgins. ‘Cherry hunters’ I think they call ‘em.”

Callum leaned against the standing bar and groaned. He didn’t want to be ‘hunted’ or to throw away his virginity, he wanted it to _mean_ something. Or at least give it to someone he was attracted to, but that person didn’t seem to be showing up in his life.

A nearby shattering of glass drew the pair’s attention. One of the club’s Elven workers, a server judging by the tray still rolling away on the floor, had pinned another customer face-down to a table, twisting his arm behind his back.

Wrath filled her accented voice, raising the hackles on Callum’s neck. “Did you miss the sign on your way in?! What part of ‘keep your hands to yourself’ don’t you understand, asshole?! Make anyone here THINK you might cause trouble again and you’re going out the back door _head first._ Are we clear?”

The man’s head nodded against the table, and she let him up, stomping off to retrieve her serving tray.

“Holy hell.”

Soren’s appreciative tone brought Callum’s eyes away from the elf.

“What?”

The blond looked at Callum like they’d just witnessed a murder and he’d asked what the big deal was.

“What do you mean ‘what’? Don’t tell me that wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve seen here tonight.”

They’d watched a few shows, and the talent was definitely on the ‘attractive’ side of things, but that display from the white-haired server touched something in Callum he hadn’t felt before.

“Yeah... It was, wasn’t it?”

Now Soren grinned. “Hey, _now_ you’re getting it! Dibs, though.”

Callum almost dropped the glass Soren shoved into his hands, and watched his friend walk into the crowd after the woman.

Damn it.

...And THAT was a new feeling, too. Frustration? Envy? No, that wasn’t right…

He frowned inwardly and swigged his cocktail.

\-------------------------------------------------

“Hey.”

Rayla rolled her eyes, but schooled her face into an inviting smirk and turned away from the bar.

“Can I get you something?”

This one was well-built and well-dressed, but too full of himself by far, and stepped closer to lean against the bar. “Uh, yeah, I’ll have whatever it was you gave that guy back there with his face on the table, minus the violence and plus the sexy?” The man raised an eyebrow and gave her a blinding smile that surely weakened the knees of many a man and woman..

Not _the worst,_ but not her type at all.

“My apologies, sir, I’m not part of the menu. Can I get you a drink? Or a snack?” Rayla slipped her perfectly blank flip note out, posing as if to write an order.

She tried not to take too much pleasure in watching his confident face crumble to disappointment. He took the rejection well enough, though, and recovered with a small sigh before straightening his shoulders.

“Nah, I’m good. Left mine with a friend. Thanks, though! Have a good one.” He turned and slipped back into the crowd.

“Please enjoy yourself!”

Rayla sighed heavily as she checked the progress on her order. Zenor was pouring the last drink into its tulip glass, and glanced her way.

“Tough night? That’s the sixth I’ve seen proposition you.”

She could only nod back to the man. “Awful. Two of the floor girls and one of the guys called out. On a Friday! Can you believe it?”

The barkeep shrugged, waving for her to take the laden tray. “Deeper pockets to tip the rest of us. Maybe you should get some yourself.”

Rayla hefted the drinks, wrinkling her nose. “Not you, too. Lay off.”

“Sure, sure. Good luck out there.”

\-------------------------------------------------

Soren took his drink and pounded it back. “Shot me down fast. Damn.” He sighed heavily while Callum patted his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, man. I’ll bet there are loads of people here who’d pay for _your_ uh, services _._ ”

His friend smiled into his glass. “Callum, you always know just what to say- you’re right! I could go for _that_ too!”

The pair watched a skywing high on the pole, hanging upside-down by her ankles and slowly revolving with arms and wings spread wide, undulating with the music. It reminded him of some bird mating dances he’d seen on wildlife documentaries, except with clothes falling off.

Callum side-eyed Soren, who was letting out an appreciative whistle.. “Didn’t know you had a wing thing.”

“I don’t, but that’s pretty damn impressive! Imagine what she could do with those-”

“Alright, alright! I get it. Yeah, you’re right.” His eyes drifted back to a particular table.

“Hey, I know that look, even if it’s one I haven’t seen in a looooong time! You’re thinking about that arm-twister, aren’t you? She’s _smoking hot,_ dude. If I’m not her style maybe you’ve got a shot!” Soren smiled encouragingly.

Callum took a drink. “I guess? Maybe she’s just not into guys.”

His friend nodded, glancing down at his empty glass. “Only one way to find out!” He looked over Callum’s head and waved.

Turning, Callum made eye contact with that same waitress. Her lightly purple eyes dazzled him in the club’s hazy lighting. The woman’s eyebrow rose before she turned towards Soren.

“Hello _again._ ”

There was a warning edge in her words, but even without the anger from earlier her voice tickled across Callum’s nape. He barely suppressed a shiver.

“Hey! Sorry, not pestering you here, actually need a drink this time.” Soren lifted his empty glass as proof. “We’ll take a pair of specials, thank you. Doubles.” 

He dropped coins into her palm, and she frowned. “This is way too much, I don’t carry change.”

“Ah, the rest is a… tip! See, my friend here is a little ‘fresh’ if you know what I’m saying.”

The waitress stared, unmoving.

“He’s never come to one of these places, that’s all, and I was going to treat him a little tonight-”

Callum put a hand on his friend’s arm. “Soren, come on, leave her alone.”

His friend barely glanced at him, winking, before he pushed on, “-and he’s got his eye on you. Only you. Can’t get him to even look at anyone else in the club.”

She shook her head, offering the money back. “Sir, like I already told you”

Soren switched to gentle pleading. “Please? You might be his only chance- _he’s a virgin_.”

Callum’s breath was a hiss while his face burned to the eartips. “Dude, STOP!”

Her voice was a deadpan. “Listen to your friend, sir, and I’ll bring you those doubles for the correct amount.”

Thankfully, Soren relented and accepted his cash back, giving her just the price of the drinks. They watched her stalk off towards the bar.

“Not cool, Soren.” Callum lowered his face into his hands to wait for his blush to fade.

\-------------------------------------------------

This night just got worse and worse. Rayla rolled her fingertips on the bar while Zenor got to work.

A voice over the loudspeaker- “ _Show those tip jars some love, folks, that waaaaaaaaAAAAS NYX!_ ” She’d better not-

Rayla instinctively jumped back as a pair of bare feet dropped onto the bar before her. At least she was still wearing her spats for once.

“You’ve really got to stop doing that.” The bartender drawled for the thousandth time.

“Never! Now where’s my- oh, thank you Zenor, you’re a doll!” The skying accepted her celebratory cocktail and took a sip. “Always best after a killing. Just look at those tips!” She blew a kiss to a waving customer, who feigned a swoon and raised his glass in appreciation.

Rayla eyed the jars positioned around the stage- Nyx _had_ done well. Maybe Zenor was right about the money… no. She had _principles._

“So, Rayla, I saw you talking to the hunk.”

“Uh huh. Seems okay. Too annoying for me, though. Full of himself.”

“Hmm, well I could do with being full of him too!” Ugh. Nyx’s crass jokes were the worst. “Is he loaded?”

“Yeah, a little flashy trying to buy for his nerdy friend. You into virgins?”

“Boooring! No way. I’ll take the big guy, though. Seems to know his way around a body. Virgin seems more your speed.”

Rayla sighed. “Seriously? You know I’ve never-”

“Oh come down off your high horse, Rayla! I’ve seen your moves!”

Her eyes widened, looking up at her coworker. “You WHAT?”

“In the dressing room- I’ve seen you come in early to straddle a chair and- woah!”

Rayla had grabbed her ankles. She growled “Not. Another. _Word,_ Nyx, or I will swing your little bird body around so hard-”

“Woah, hey, easy, okay! I’m just saying you’ve got good moves! You’d get regulars like _that!_ ” Nyx snapped her fingers. “Now let go! The hunk is staring at me and I want him!” Her wings twitched in anticipation.

“Fine, just tell his friend to wait there for his drinks. They paid up-front.” Rayla picked up her tray and nodded to Zenor before turning to follow Nyx towards the pair of humans.

\-------------------------------------------------

“-and that’s why I’ll give you a special rate, how’s that sound?”

The skywing dancer, Nyx, leaned more heavily into Soren’s arm, tracing the outline of his pecs through his shirt.

Soren looked like he’d just won the lottery. “Oh _hell_ yes!”

Nyx’s smile grew, if that were possible. “Perfect, love! Short or long?”

Callum watched the soulful blue eyes turn towards him, and shrugged. “You do you, man.”

Soren didn’t need another word. “Long! The longest.”

She laughed, squeezing his exceptional bicep. “You and I are going to get along _just fine_ , I think. Would you be so kind and help me collect my tips?” She tipped her head towards the stage.

“Yeah, sure!”

“Ah.” The dancer turned towards Callum. “Rayla will be here in a second with your drinks, just stay here. Lucky you, you get two!” She sing-songed the last bit and leapt into the air.

And they were gone.

What the hell were they even talking about? The longest _what?_ Callum shook his head.

Rayla, apparently, appeared a moment later. “That was fast.”

“Oh, hey, thanks.” He accepted both glasses, leaving them on the table. “And yeah. Soren doesn’t mince words.” Ah, hell with it. She seemed less annoyed now. “Do you want to uh, share a drink? I’ve got an extra.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You know I’m working, right?”

Callum felt the blush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, I… I thought I could maybe, pay you to uh, keep me company? That’s how it works here, right?”

Now she was outright frowning. Not good.

“You just want to talk and drink?”

“Yeah. Is that… okay?”

Rayla looked him up and down, then tossed her serving tray onto the empty side of the table.

“Why the hell not.”

Oh. It worked. _NOW_ what?

\-------------------------------------------------

Callum was likable. Stupidly likable. Rayla found herself spilling like he was some kind of counselor, and his attention never wavered. The big guy hadn’t been joking about Callum only having eyes for her- he didn’t so much as glance at any of Rayla’s scantily-clad co workers walking by or performing.

He laughed brightly at her jokes, and had some quips of his own that made her snort embarrassingly into her drink- but he only smiled more widely when she did. His hands were expressive, and he respectfully kept them to himself. 

Almost frustratingly so, when she caught herself reaching for one and he pulled it away. 

Ah, damn, these drinks were doubles... The pleasant heat wasn’t just the alcohol, though, and Rayla bit her lip as she considered giving the poor, nice… cute... guy a night he’d remember. One of her favorite dance songs was being faded into the mix played through the club.

That made up her mind. May as well get _some_ thing out of this awful night.

“Come on.”

He blinked as she took his hand and led him to the back- Nyx had said room three earlier… and here they were. Rayla flipped the door sign to “occupied” and pulled Callum in behind her.

The plush room was mood-lit and thankfully smelled pleasant, a sure sign of the club’s sterilizing procedure. Still, she wasn’t taking any chances, and had grabbed a lousy folding chair on their way. This she dropped into the center of the room.

“Sit.”

Callum did, and she watched the stupid rotating lights play across his clueless face.

“Your friend wasn’t lying about this being your first time, was he?”

Callum swallowed, eyes widening. “Y-yeah, I’m a virgin.”

Rayla rolled her eyes. Maybe he was a little _too_ hopeful. “Not _that._ I meant at a club like this.”

“Oh. Yeah.” The change in his complexion between nervously pallor and dark, embarrassed blush was almost alarming.

“So you’ve never had a lapdance.”

“A what?”

“Well, I’ve never given one, either, so we’re both changing that tonight.”

\-------------------------------------------------

Callum swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving Rayla’s. They shimmered in the room’s fanned lightning. “Do I need to… what do I do?”

She dropped a hand to his shoulder and threw one leg across both of his to straddle him, lowering herself into his lap. Her… shorts were so _short_ he wasn’t sure they still qualified as such.

“You…” she took a deep breath, eyes darting between his. “Sit there and take the dance. If you need to get comfortable, just move. I’ll adjust.”

His breathing was already shallow, and Callum hoped against all mounting evidence that his body wouldn’t betray his growing desire. Rayla’s eyes drifted down from his, and she looped her arm around his neck, biting one corner of her lower lip.

Rayla’s voice was barely a murmur, their faces were so close. “Just relax and… enjoy yourself.”

“O-okay.” He couldn’t contain his sharp intake of breath when she started moving, and gripped the sides of his seat. She moved with a slow, gyrating grind of her hips against his, following the music. 

Callum felt her begin to relax, her eyes closing as her posture loosened. He tried to follow her example, forcing the tension out of his shoulders, and she gave a small contented hum. When she arched her back to shift their contact, he struggled with where to look, settling on her face.

She only grew more beautiful, as he watched the stress and worries fade away from her expression. Closed eyes or not, he could imagine both softness and heat radiating from them as her dance grew more intense. But his leg was starting to go dead...

“Ah. Sorry, just…” Rayla lifted herself and he quickly adjusted his seat, then smiled up at her.

The tipsy blush across her cheeks darkened, and she very, very slowly raised a hand to his face, tracing his jaw with a fingertip, from ear to chin. “You’re too damn sweet,” she whispered, head slowly shaking in disbelief. “I’m in this hellhole four nights a week, surrounded by some of the worst people imaginable, hating what dance has been reduced to in my life… and you walk in.”

Callum felt his mouth opening and closing, but the words weren’t coming.

“You don’t have to say anything, just… let me dance.”

She turned around and, watching him over her shoulder, shook her hips in time with the music. The style was all wrong for her fishnets and barely-there shorts and top. His brain overlaid flowing silks and beaded cords on her form… another documentary… Moonshadow dancing rituals? He tried to look away from her gyrations, but couldn’t, and found himself unable to take issue with the fact.

Despite the clash in dance and dress, he found it undeniably sexy, and he audibly groaned when Rayla switched to ‘club’ dancing and lowered herself back into his lap, grinding directly onto the stark proof of his arousal. He knew she felt it, in her immediate pause, for the barest moment, but she only renewed her efforts.

Callum couldn’t help but gasp her name. “Rayla!” He cringed at the clear desperation in his voice, but it only seemed to encourage her. She grasped his thighs for balance and crushed their bodies together roughly, throwing her head back with a small gasp of her own.

His hands gripped her waist- when did they get there?- and he pleaded with her. “Rayla, you’ve- you’ve got to stop or I’ll-” but she was lost in the music, pressing herself down on him without mercy. His grip on her tightened, his legs went taught, and he felt his toes curling painfully in his shoes as he went over the edge. “Ray-” he choked on the pleasure wringing his body, but she never let up.

Only when he went completely slack beneath her did she rise, turning with a frown on her face, which instantly snapped into surprised disbelief.

“Wait, did you…”

Callum could only cover his face with both hands.

“Oh. Oh wow. Um.” 

He peeked through his fingers and found a strange expression on her face- a blushing embarrassment, but also that same lip-bite on a half smirk. Her eyes were darting up and down his body.

“I’m… sorry? About your clothes? I didn’t expect _that_ to happen… I’ve heard stories, though…”

Callum’s breathing had slowed enough for him to trust his voice. “It’s… okay, I think. Probably because I’m, well... I didn’t mean to interrupt your dancing.”

Rayla blinked. “Seriously? That’s what you…” she sighed and laughed at once, offering him a hand up. “Okay, yeah. That’s so you. I feel like I’ve known you for ages, Callum.”

Accepting the help, he awkwardly shuffle-walked for the door. Soren could _never_ find out about this.

\-------------------------------------------------

The two were back at Callum’s apartment, splitting a pizza they’d picked up on the way.

“DUDE. You seriously came in your pants?! That’s so _virgin!_ ”

“WELL I AM ONE! Wait, a lapdance doesn’t count, does it?”

Soren chuckled. “Not if you still had your clothes on, in my book. Someone else might give you a different answer, though. Up to you, really.”

Callum mulled it over. “I guess not… How often do you go there, anyways?”

“The Stacked Deck? Like once a month, maybe. More if I’m striking out or just need a hug.”

“Really? A hug?”

“A naked hug, Callum.”

“...oh. Right.”

“I can’t believe you scored her, though. She blocked me pretty hard.”

Callum shrugged. “We just talked for a little while and Rayla took me into the back, like I said. She didn’t even ask me to pay.”

Soren frowned at that. “What the hell? That sounds personal. Did you get her number?”

The younger man blinked. “Oh. No. Shit, I should’ve asked…”

“Yeeeeah, buddy, I might _say_ you ‘always know just what to say’ but I don’t really mean it.”

Callum frowned at his own stupidity and chewed, glancing at Soren, who noticed and smiled.

“You want to go back, don’t you?”

Closing his eyes and sighing, Callum nodded.

\-------------------------------------------------

“Come ooon Rayla! I heard about you and Mister Virgin in the back rooms yesterday! I _knew_ it! You like ‘em fresh, don’t you?”

“No, Nyx, that’s not it, he was just… sweet. And I liked him.”

The skywing dropped her teasing tone. “Wait, are you serious? You didn’t…”

“No! It was… personal.”

“Shit, Rayla, you know you aren’t-”

She slammed her hands on the table she was wiping down. “I _know!_ But I’m not like the rest of you, I’m just a waitress! That was… my break. That’s all.”

“Your break.”

“Yes.”

“In the reserved rooms.”

“...you told me you’d left it open for me.”

“Riiiiiiight. _Well_ if you ever feel like taking any more ‘breaks’ I’d just be a little more subtle about it, hm?”

“Not happening.” She amended the statement. “Callum’s never coming back.”

“Oh you know his _name?!_ ”

Rayla lashed out with her cleaning rag, but Nyx was already airborne, laughing her way across the room.

But he _wasn’t_ coming back, not after she’d embarrassed him like that.

\-------------------------------------------------

Their eyes met as his raised hand attracted her attention. “You’re back?”

“Uh, yeah, is that okay? Or is that weird?” He hoped it wasn’t weird.

“It’s fine, I just… Sorry, I’m still technically working.”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, I’ll have uh, whatever you recommend. Two, if you have time to join me?”

That lip-bite from his memory appeared. “I shouldn’t. Not yet, anyways, it’s too early.”

“I can come back in a few hours?”

Rayla frowned, then took his hand and wrote her number into his palm.

“How about you message me? I’ll hit you back after my shift. Then we can meet up? Do you live around here?”

“Just a few blocks.”

That got a smile. “Perfect.”

\-------------------------------------------------

_A few days later_

\-------------------------------------------------

There was no way this was a good idea, but Rayla didn’t want to shoot down his perfectly normal first date plan. Callum thanked the attendant and passed her a ticket, bordered in a cute shell pattern, with a little heart stamped over the serial number.

“The couples’ rate was better.” He smiled nervously, and she put him at ease by threading their fingers together and stepping closer.

“Good! Now we can get those imported blue popsicles you were talking about.”

His expression softened with relief and joy, and he squeezed her hand. “Yeah! Shall we?”

Rayla chuckled and let him lead on.

It wasn’t so bad, at first, with the little simulated shoreline biome. She made sure to pick up a small starfish, even if it made her skin crawl, and he smiled at her so brightly that she blushed and turned away.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just… a little slimier than I thought, heh.”

They washed their hands and moved on to the enclosed section- this was going to be the hard part. She concentrated on Callum’s face, the childlike wonder while he watched the strange wildlife, and the studious focus as he read the small plaques next to each exhibit.

He dropped her hand to dash around a large tube, and the face he made through it was so weirdly distorted by the curved glass she couldn’t help but chuckle and shake her head- what a dork. Then a pale blob floated up between them, and she blinked.

Callum returned to her side. “Ah, moon jellies. I always liked these, just relaxing little guys to watch float around. I like to think they're a weird type of lucky, with the four-leaf clover shape in the middle.”

Rayla rested a hand on the glass, watching the wide creature pulse itself upward. “It’s… _kind_ of cute? With the big poofy edge like a dress, it sort of looks like it’s…”

“Dancing?”

“Yeah.” She returned his smile. “You like dancing?”

“I’m not very good, but yeah, I do.” He fake-coughed and glanced back to the jellies. “Speaking of dancing…”

This should be good. “Uh huh?”

“That night, when we met… _that_ dance.”

“Mhmm?” 

“The part in the middle, not the uh, other parts.”

Oh. “You noticed?”

He took her hand again and looked at her with a raised eyebrow, leading them along. “How could I not? It was so different. Still captivating, but like it was… missing something.”

She hadn’t even really talked about the dancing… “Yeah. It’s… sort of a traditional thing from back home.”

“You danced there?”

They sat on a bench before an exceptionally large glass wall- normally she’d never be able to look, but Callum’s presence… his distracting conversation… maybe it was enough? Rayla watched a shark glide by, and felt only the wistful longing to _dance_ again. 

“Every day. It wasn’t my job, but I loved it. When I came here to study, I was told there were really well-paying jobs for dancers and well, you can guess how that went.”

“Oh, man, that’s _awkward._ But you still took a job there?”

She shrugged. “Still pays well, I just have to show a bit more skin than I’d like- but without flashing my paps at anyone, even if some customers get a little insistent.”

Callum blushed so easily. It was adorable. “Uh, yeah. I saw how well you can handle yourself.” 

He did? She thought back to that night… “You saw that, huh? The guy didn’t know what ‘no’ meant.”

“Yeah, I heard that part, too, hah. How long have you been training?”

There was supposed to be an eel in the exhibit, but she wasn’t finding it. “Since I was six.”

“Wow, that’s… hardcore.”

“Been dancing longer, if you can believe it.”

“I uh” that blush darkened his cheeks again. “I definitely can.”

The schools of smaller fish shimmered prettily, and Rayla leaned her head on Callum’s shoulder for a moment.

“This is nice.”

“Yeah. I’m glad you like it, and that we could come together.”

Rayla turned her head to look at him, and the tender… loving warmth she found in his eyes squeezed at her heart. _Don’t be stupid, Rayla, he doesn’t even know you._ But it felt like he did, after only a few days…

Unsure how he’d react, but certain she wanted it, Rayla leaned up kiss him-

-and he was immediately leaning to meet her.

Callum’s lips were softer than she’d expected, and warm. He was gentle and chaste, lifting his free hand to cup one of her cheeks, even as he squeezed their clasped hands.

When they parted- too soon!- he leaned his forehead against hers. “Wow…”

Rayla chuckled and watched him sigh happily. “First kiss?”

“No! But the first time it meant something, yeah.”

She didn’t need to ask for another go, but a not-so-subtle cough nearby interrupted, and they startled apart.

“Ah, yeah, this isn’t the kind of exhibit people paid to see, is it? Maybe we should-”

“-yeah, being ‘on display’ isn’t exactly my thing, I’m sure you’ve gathered.”

They chuckled together and moved on with their tour, hand in hand.

\-------------------------------------------------

_A few months later_

\-------------------------------------------------

His phone _dinged_ a harp note, the Rayla notification. Noting the time, almost 1am, he knew exactly what to expect.

**I’m bored.**

She was never direct over the phone- it was almost cute. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the club.

Rayla was waiting for him, and latched her arms around him from behind almost as soon as he walked in the door.

“I’ve got a break, and the moon room is open.”

Oh, shit. He hadn’t been tracking the lunar calendar. Lucky coincidence with the ‘gift’ he’d picked up.

She led him up the spiral stairs to the top floor, and rushed him through the door marked by a crescent moon. Its roof was almost entirely glass, allowing the full moon’s light to spill across the floor, and more importantly, the bed.

“Dance with me.”

Rayla loved to dance, and Callum did his utmost to keep up, studying and practicing every day, with or without her. She was unbelievably strong in the moonlight, spinning him around and thrusting herself against him with such force that his adrenaline spiked as if this were a fight.

He loved it.

As she slowly tossed their clothes away, driving their dance towards the waiting bed, Callum stopped her. “Wait! I’ve… got something I thought we could try tonight.”

He’d never brought anything up for their play, and she brightened at his words. “Oh! Okay! Show me!”

Callum knelt next to his discarded jacket and withdrew a small parcel.

“It’s nothing crazy, I just thought it’d be a nice little edge? Maybe something special, with the full moon. I uh, asked around about Moonshadow accessories and eventually found these- they look a little small, but they’re really pretty in a kind of sexy way- are you okay?”

Rayla had blushed completely to the tips of her ears, her eyes wider than he’d ever seen, even in the throes of passion.

“Callum, are you seriously…”

“What? I didn’t think having your hands cuffed would be such a big deal…” He looked down at the ornamental cuffs in his hands- their clasps were pretty sturdy, but the chain didn’t seem all that tough. They definitely weren’t serious handcuffs.

Her blush was fading. “Wait…” He did, confused, and held the cuffs out for examination. She took them, turning them over and running her fingers over the filigree.

“You thought these were handcuffs?”

Callum shrugged. “Uh, yeah. They’re pretty small, like I said, but you’re thin, so-”

“You _dumbass,_ these are horn cuffs!”

“Oh. Woops? Want to wear ‘em?”

“Callum, you don’t-” she sighed. “You don’t know anything about these, do you?”

“No?” What was she getting at?

“They didn’t come up in your dance studies at all?”

Now that she mentioned it, a few dancers wore cuffs. Not all had the ornamental chain between them, but they did pop up now and then.

“Okay, maybe I have seen them. What’s the big deal?”

“Callum, they’re the traditional version of _wedding rings._ ”

“Oh.” She raised an eyebrow at his reaction, and he looked down at the cuffs in her hands. “OH.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’ is right, dummy.” She offered them back, and he reached, but…

He took a deep breath. “Do you… want to wear them? For real?”

She blinked. “Are you serious?”

Callum leaned over her hands to kiss her. Tenderly and with all the feeling he could muster. “Yes.”

“What the _hell,_ Callum! At my job, mostly naked, in my stupid fishnets and you…” Her eyes watered, and she bowed her head a bit. “...put them on me.”

He did- they weren’t a perfect fit around the base, but they were close, and he led her towards the full-length mirror in one corner. She giggled and turned her head side to side, admiring the ornaments before pushing herself back against him, pressing their hips together.

“You’d better get ready then, because this night was already going to be wild. You just doubled up.”

Callum swallowed heavily in anticipation and ran his hands down her sides, his heart soaring with Rayla’s acceptance.

\-------------------------------------------------

The morning-after service at The Stacked Deck was highly rated on a restaurant review site, despite the requirement of an overnight visitation. Soren had clued him in a month after Callum’s first trip. A few other couples sat around the room, or at the bar with Callum and Rayla.

Zenor set a brightly-colored drink in front of him, then frowned and added a straw. “Try this, kid. Called a ‘Corpse Reviver Number Two,’ and it lives up to its name.”

Callum took a sip. Yep, definitely alcoholic, but it was _good._

“Thanks, Zenor. I’m guessing I look like I need it?”

“Callum, you look like you need to be put in a full-body cast.” The bartender turned to Rayla, who was practically glowing. “What did you _do_ to him?”

Rayla innocently popped a strawberry into her mouth. “Full moon last night” was all she needed to say.

“Ah. Right.” Zenor knew the drill, it seemed. “Surprised you could get the moon room for it.”

Rayla chuckled and swallowed her bite of breakfast. “I’m pretty sure Orami hospitalized her last customer in there, and everyone’s been too scared since. Prusch has been _furious_ with her _._ ”

Callum had to turn his entire body to face her, his neck was _that_ stiff. “You don’t regret this at all, do you?”

Her eyebrows rose. “Should I?”

“Absolutely not. Pencil me in for next month.” He shifted back to his breakfast and weakly lifted his fork.

Zenor rolled their eyes as Rayla laughed. “Good gods, kid. Try not to die on property, okay?”

Callum glanced at his newly- _intended_ and smiled.

“No promises.”


	3. Gentle Hands - (Gladiator, Hurt/Comfort AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where all elves have been forced into the Pentarchy, two people manage to find each other and defy fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Complete work has been changed to E (Explicit) rating for this chapter in particular, but also to cover my bases.
> 
> There are multiple timeskips in this story- the three general age brackets are childhood, teens, and full adults (20+)
> 
> This story is not ALL happy, and generally less-upbeat than previous chapters. There are action scenes, descriptions of violence and wound care in this chapter, though I don't consider any of particular explicit. You have been warned.
> 
> The smut, on the other hand, I tried to write more explicitly than usual.

%%%%%%%%%%  
  
Rayla kicked a pebble down the road and dodged around a few adults standing in her way. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of a hand. Arli was so _mean_ to everyone _…_

The young girl followed the streets Ethari had led her down a dozen times, before he’d left the city. She couldn’t remember its name, but the place would help anyone with injuries. The scrape or cut- she couldn’t tell which -throbbed on her face, and the rough stone road had scratched her hands and arms badly enough to bleed.

Runaan wouldn’t be home for hours, so… she was listening to Ethari instead. Sort of.

There! A hanging sign with some weird human symbol, a stick with wings, or something. There were a few people slumped on benches outside, humans and elves alike, but Rayla wanted to see who was inside before she waited for any weird people to ‘help’ her.

Rayla pushed her way through the surprisingly light door, and a human woman with dark hair and a mole under one eye blinked down at her before smiling and squatting to Rayla’s level.

“Hello, little one.” Her eyebrows lifted in concern as she focused on the obvious wound, but the human didn’t reach out. “Oh, that doesn’t look good.”

This wasn’t so bad… Rayla turned her hands over to show the rest of her scrapes, and the human took a deep breath, making a soft distressed sound.

“Not good at all. Did you fall? Get in a fight?”

Rayla looked away. _That_ wasn’t why she was here.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to share. Come along, we’ll get you some help.” The woman stood and walked towards the back of the room. “Callum! Callum, dear, come out!”

Rayla followed, really seeing the rows of cots against each wall for the first time. Some had people laid out completely, covered in bandages or tough casts, while others had more than one person merely sitting on them, waiting. A few had wounds like hers, and she felt a little more confident this place was okay.

She was so distracted by a man liberally applying some goop to a grisly injury across someone’s back that she walked into the woman’s leg. Rayla leapt back into a ready crouch, but the human only chuckled and gestured towards one of a few smaller cots set up in a corner.

“My son will be here soon.” She raised her head to call out again. “Cal- oh there you are, sweetheart. Someone has come for help. Do you think you can do that for-” The woman glanced at Rayla again, her eyes wandering. “- her?” It sounded like a question, so Rayla nodded.

Callum, if she’d heard right, was a boy close to her age. Younger. With poofy brown human hair and a shy look on his face, tilting his face down and eyeing her warily, as if expecting an attack.

The woman touched the back of his head. “Come on now, just like we practiced, right?”

The boy hesitated the barest moment, then nodded and lifted his chin, meeting Rayla’s eyes with his own before they wandered up to her horns. Humans always did that.

“H-hello. I’m Callum, and I’ll help you.” He blinked, as if surprised by himself. “Okay?”

Glancing up at the smiling woman, Rayla took a step closer. “Okay.”

The adult ruffled her son’s hair and leaned down to kiss the fussing boy’s forehead before walking away. “Call me if you need anything,” she said to them both- and then she was gone.

Their child-sized area was walled away from the rest of the room by a paneled screen, and Callum had turned away to dig through a small chest between the cots. “You can… sit? If you want.”

Rayla sat, and swung her legs as she watched the boy lift a few things into a small bowl-shaped basket. Jars with painted corks and some clean bandages.

When their eyes met, he looked away. Weird.

“Um. I’m going to clean the cut on your face. It might hurt a little. I don’t want to… drip anything in your eye, so you can lie down, or hold this?” He offered a gauzy wad, which she took and pressed just over her eye.

“Ready.”

“O-okay. Sorry if this hurts.” He placed the basket next to her, and she heard a bottle’s stopper, and the familiar _gloop_ of bottled liquid. “Oops” he said in a small voice, but he didn’t sound panicked or upset.

Then he was leaning close, and the sharp sting came as he brushed the cut with something soft and wet. But… he was gentle. Not at all like the rough, efficient cleaning she usually got from Runaan. It was strange, but not unpleasant.

“Sorry,” Callum muttered, and Rayla realized she was clenching the gauze in a fist.

She tried to relax. “It’s not so bad. You’re nice.”

“Oh.” Rayla wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say, but she still felt let-down. “You seem nice, too.”

At that, she giggled. “You don’t even _know_ me, dummy! I might be mean!”

The boy paused to look her in the eye, but only for a second before continuing. “No way, I bet you’re super nice.”

“Super?”

“Y-yeah. Super. Like ‘really.’ But special.”

Rayla frowned. “I’m not special.”

He’d stopped working on her scratch, so she lifted her gauzy cover away and was surprised to see him looking sad.

“You might be.”

“No. I’m not.”

Callum looked away again, taking the wad from her hand and dropping it into another bowl with some other fluff. “Well… you’re the first person I helped. So you’re special to me.”

That… was weird. But she didn’t have a response. She watched him hesitate before reaching out and grasping her fingers to turn her hand over. He winced at the scrapes. “Ow.”

“They aren’t on you, why say ow?”

“Because it _looks_ like it hurts… but we can help.” He started dabbing and gently wiping away the dirt with more of the stinging medical stuff.

Rayla reached for the cloth he was using. “I can do my hands.”

“No!” He jerked it away, then blinked, again a little shocked by himself. “I mean… no, let me.” Callum met her eyes, the green in them wide and pleading. “Please?”

This time Rayla looked away. She could fight the older Arli over something stupid, but she couldn’t handle that look for some reason. She dropped her hand. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” He took his time cleaning her scraped hands and arms, and eventually the stinging was overtaken by the strange feeling she got from the way Callum held her with his spare hand. A gentle grasp, tight enough to _hold_ her, but soft enough that she could pull away if she really wanted to.

Her reminded of Ethari, a little. Slow and soft and nice. Ethari, who’d left the city…

“What’s wrong?”

Rayla blinked, and realized her vision had gone blurry. “Nothing!” She wiped her eyes with the back of her unheld hand. “Nothing.” Despite herself, she sniffled.

“There, there.” Two little pats, on her knee. There what? “You can cry if you want. I won’t tell anyone.”

“It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“Okay.”

“It doesn’t!” But it did. Ethari not being there. She only had Runaan, now. He was strong, but… not always _nice._

“Do… do you want a hug?”

“N-no.” Her breath hitched.

“Okay.” Everything was _‘okay’_ with this human...

He released her hand and took the other, fetching a new cloth. She _did_ want a hug, but that was dumb and wrong- you don’t just _hug_ people -so she concentrated on his gentle grip instead, a tiny hug on her forearm.

Callum was done all too quickly, and walked out into the main room without a word. He returned with his mother, who looked at all of Rayla’s scratches and scrapes. 

“Nice and clean. Was Callum nice?”

Rayla didn’t hesitate. “Super nice.” The boy’s eyes widened, but he smiled a little, and the family resemblance between the humans became shockingly clear.

“Is it okay if I do the rest? I’d like to get a little poultice on your face, at least, so it doesn’t scar.”

“Um.”

Callum stepped over and sat on the cot next to her. “My mom’s super nice, too!”

Why should that matter to her? But it did, since Callum said it. “Okay.”

His mother’s hands were gentle, too, but a little like Runaan’s in the way she moved. Rayla liked Callum’s more, even if he was slow.

Rayla curled her newly-bandaged fingers, satisfied with their flexibility, and minded her manners. “Thank you, Callum’s mom”

The woman chuckled. “You’re welcome, little one. You can call me Sarai. Can we know your name?”

Glancing between the two, the small elf nodded.

“I’m Rayla.”

%%%%%%%%%%

She sighed heavily, watching the cityscape and soaking in the moonlight. Her cheek stung.

_That isn’t what I’m teaching you for, Rayla!_

Runaan would never understand… he was so _stubborn_ and stuck in the past. They weren’t in The Silvergrove, and there was no ‘justice’ he wanted so badly in the human lands. _She_ was justice.

“Hello?”

Rayla startled, scrambling up and drawing her blades- then froze. “Callum?”

The boy blinked. Taller, now, of course, but still not finished growing. It had been _years_ since they’d met, and she’d grown as well, her horns sweeping back over her head. His stupid hair was still a little poofy, though.

“Wait, aren’t you....”

Of course. She was wearing the gray-and-green outfit she’d pieced together for stealth. “No. Well, _yes_ , but not right now.” She pulled the cloth down from where it covered her nose, mouth, and cheeks. “Recognize me?”

Callum stared, then stepped forward, craning his neck to look at her face from another angle. “Rayla?”

That surprised her- she didn’t think the one-time childhood visit to the clinic had made much of an impression.

“Your markings…” He traced one finger down through his own eyebrow. “They’re different?”

The blades went back to their holster, and she chuckled. “They aren’t permanent, you know.”

He smiled. “I do now. Why are you here?”

She dropped back to her seat on the edge of the stone balcony, one leg dangling over the edge. “This is where I come to think. Good view of the city. And the moon.”

“Ah. Right.”

“You?”

“The same.”

Rayla turned her head to give him a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, not the moon part, but the city part. This might be the first time I’ve come at night, though, so that’s why i haven’t seen you before.”

Callum approached and leaned over the far end of the balcony, giving her the side-eye. “But I _also_ don’t have the city-wide reputation for thievery and random night attacks.”

Heaving a sigh, Rayla turned back to the moon. “Yes, I’m sadly alone on that front.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I don’t need a partner or whatever. Just meant alone in righting wrongs.”

He faced her more fully, not hiding the way he scrutinized her.“Your cheek. Do you really manage to get away with just that?”

Rayla snorted, but cupped the stinging patch anyways. “Hardly. But no, this is… personal.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

More human ‘sympathy.’ “Don’t be.”

“Okay.”

Some things never changed. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. What else hadn’t? She swung her legs back inside, hopping down.

“Hey Callum, c’mere.”

He stepped over, his uncertainty clear as the moon in the sky.

“Let me see your hands.” She started removing her gloves, and he did the same.

“What for?”

“Just… let me see.”

Rayla reached out and grabbed both his hands, turning them over. Not callused like hers, or scarred and pocked like so many others that raised against her. 

Soft. Smooth.

“Still the same Callum.”

“Are you doing one of those palm reading things?”

She scoffed and pressed her thumbs into one of his hands. “ _No,_ I just remembered how soft your hands were back then. Mine are all rough, see?” She showed him. “You must be a noble’s son or something.”

Callum’s feet shuffled, and he looked out over the city. “Something like that, yeah.”

Rayla continued to press her thumbs along his hand and fingers, idly. “Not Lord Viren’s, I hope?”

That made him turn with a _look_ on his face. “What? No!” 

“Good. I’d hate to kill you.”

Callum stared.

“ _Joking,_ dummy.”

A tiny smile appeared. “I dunno, with your reputation…” She slowly bent his thumb back. “Ah, ah! Okay, okay! Kidding! Jeez. But please don’t kill Soren.”

Rayla expected him to jerk his hand back, but his second came up and he copied her, pressing his thumbs into her palm. He frowned. At its roughness?

“Are all elf hands this small?” The innocent curiosity of the question was almost endearing.

Rayla leaned against the balcony, letting him keep her hand. His touch was the same as before. Soft, yes, and gentle. Tender, even. Slow to harm. The opposite of the rest in her life, including her own.

“They aren’t. Human hands are just big.” And warm.

Callum chuckled. “Maybe they are. Huh.”

He’d lifted her hand and mirrored his against it- hers _did_ look rather small… no, no, his was too big. Rayla blinked as he shifted his hand slightly, so her fingers lined up between his.

“And look, I could fit all your fingers between mine- oh.”

She’d squeezed down into the empty spaces, and Callum blushed as he slowly closed his hand around hers. It _was_ warm, engulfing hers completely, and she still felt able to pull away, if she wanted to. 

But she didn’t.

“I’m glad.”

“Huh?”

“You haven’t changed.”

His blush was fading now. “Well, I _hope_ I have- that was a long time ago, Rayla.”

She rolled her eyes with a short sigh. “Well, sure, we’re bigger now, stronger, smarter I hope… but some things-” Callum sputtered as she messed her hand through his hair, the way his mother had “-are exactly the same.” He pouted, trying to smooth his hair back down, and she smirked at the silliness of the situation. 

Not a feeling she was used to.

“But your hands, too. I thought you were… weirdly gentle, back then. Almost no one I know even comes close, but you’re… different.”

Callum’s pout had faded into curiosity, and he quirked an eyebrow. “Would you say I’m… _super_ different?”

Rayla laughed, squeezing his hand. “Yes! Super different! The street elves have you to thank for learning that word, by the way.”

“Oh wow, really? That’s uh…” he swallowed as she took his second hand in hers. “That’s really something.”

“It is.” She agreed, marvelling at the strange sensation of their interwoven fingers. The two shared a few shy glances and uncertain smiles before, idly knocking his thumbs together, Rayla sighed. “And now I think I should be heading home. Unfortunately.” He didn’t resist as she pulled her hands from his, though the corner of his mouth tugged in a slight frown.

“Will I see you again?”

Rayla thought it over and shrugged. “Probably. Not here, though, and not regularly. I can’t afford to get caught. Sorry.”

He deflated with a sigh. “That’s okay. I understand.”

The sad display tightened something in her chest, somehow, and she lifted his chin with a fingertip. “Hey, don’t be sad.” She gave him her best smile. “I’ll be around. Stay gentle, Callum, it’s… special, in this city.”

Rayla pressed a brief kiss to his cheek, mirroring the throbbing ache of her own, and vaulted the balcony’s railing to a roof below, dashing off into the night with a suppressed smile, ignoring the new heat blazing in her cheeks, blotting out the pain.

%%%%%%%%%%

“Rayla?” Callum left his drink on the bar and let her draw him away from the crowd.

Her voice was a hiss. “Shh! But yes. Come with me.”

They’d seen each other over the years. But only in small moments, rarely able to speak. It had been maybe a month since the last time they’d met, when she’d literally fallen through a library window and into his lap while running from the city watch. She’d blinked in surprise, smiled, kissed him on the lips and was off again before he could remember to breathe.

And now she was in the nobles’ terrace during harvest festival, dragging him around a building and away from prying eyes. Once in a more shaded area, she spun.

“You busy?”

Callum could only roll his eyes. “Am I ever?”

“Right. I want you-” she took a quick, deep, shaky breath “-to come with me. If you will. Please.”

He was confused, and a little concerned, but agreed. “Sure, let’s go! Um, where to, though?”

Rayla only smiled in return, and led him on a familiar path to the balcony they’d reunited on, all those years ago. They both had to duck the somewhat-small doorway now, and he surveyed what Rayla had done to the room while she barred the door.

Dozens of cushions and pillows were piled haphazardly into a corner, and he watched his companion hurriedly light a few candles next to a bottle of wine. Callum noticed her hand shake as she poured a goblet of the stuff, and he stepped forward to cover her hand with his.

“Hey.”

She didn’t respond, but lowered the wine back to the table.

“Rayla, look at me.”

Recalling the first kiss she’d given him, here, all that time ago, Callum reached out and slowly turned her face towards his. Her worried, almost pleading expression chased away his alcohol-induced warmth.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I- it’s just-” she huffed a sigh. “I’m screwing this up.” Taking his hand, she turned it palm-up and slowly traced its lines with her fingertip. The hand that gripped his was toughened, callused, scarred, but that didn’t matter in the slightest.

“So you learned palm-reading after all?”

Rayla gave him a tiny _look_ before turning her attention back to his hand, and he waited, watching her chew the inside of her cheek.

“I’m going to do something dangerous tomorrow. I’m not certain how it’ll end, and that… _not knowing…_ it’s eating me up. I’ve never been so _unsure_ of a mission. Of myself.”

Not wanting to interrupt whatever comfort she was taking in his hand, Callum stepped closer.

“So I want to… remember. Your hands.” She blushed. “Memorize them. Just in case something happens.”

“Rayla…” Callum smiled as she avoided his gaze, charmed by her lasting fixation with his soft nobles’ hands. Quills and brushes didn’t exactly leave calluses. He nodded towards her preparations. “You didn’t have to do all this if you wanted to hold hands again.”

She looked up at him then, and the blush returned, darker than before. “I... “ Her mouth set into a firm line, and she tugged him towards the mound of cushions. “I want more than your hands. Let me remember you?” She brought a hand up to rest on the highest button of his doublet, and her eyebrows rose. Asking permission.

“You... “ Callum’s eyes widened as it sunk in. “I…”

Rayla frowned, but her hand stayed. “You can’t? I’d understand.”

“It’s not that, I just… wasn’t expecting this.” He swallowed roughly, then slid a hand around her waist and drew her closer. Their lips met, softly, ever-gently, and Rayla’s sigh washed over him in a hot breath. He felt the nervous tension melt from her shoulders as her hands looped around his neck, pulling herself fully against him. 

The second, more direct kiss swept all other thoughts from his mind and replaced them with Rayla. Rayla, throwing him a rose and blowing a kiss from a rooftop. Rayla, slinking into the crowd with a snicker when he turned to accost whoever had pinched his ass. Rayla, singing softly to the moon as he watched from a nearby window. Rayla, Rayla, Rayla! Every small moment they shared, sealed together by their kiss, and it was like she’d been there, at his side, all along.

When they parted, Rayla leaned into the hand that cupped her cheek. A tear glistened at the corner of one eye as her chest heaved. “How are you so damn _gentle_ all the time? It turns me into that fancy jelly you nobles eat. Are you made of the stuff? I can barely stand...” She _was_ trembling, and Callum overrode all etiquette and bent down, sweeping Rayla into his arms.

He grinned at her tiny surprised sound, her arms latching around his neck, but she pouted as he laid her down among the pillow pile. “This is all backwards, I’m the one who’s supposed to be-”

She was cut off by a small kiss, and grabbed his collar when he lifted away. “Again.”

Callum obliged her, leaning across her for a closer embrace.

A breathy voice. “Again.”

Rayla’s back arched as he slid a careful hand down to pull her waist against his.

Barely a whisper. “... _again.”_

He’d been as gentle as ever, but their breathing had grown heavy, and she startled when he dug a finger between the layers of her top. Eyes wide, Rayla nodded her assent, and Callum carefully tugged her vest open, gently gliding down through the crease to part each joining loop until the clothing split open, revealing a narrow span of bare skin from hip to neckline, and a tiny bit of white chest-binding now exposed to the night air.

Even now, older as they were, her hands seemed small as they fisted in his hair while they kissed. When he moved to the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then her neck, the sharp gasp in his ear set his pulse racing. Callum kissed her over and over, his chin pushing her vest further apart as he trailed down her chest and stomach.

Risking a glance up, he saw Rayla’s eyes pressed shut, her lips slightly parted, quivering with each kiss. When his wandering hand reached the top of one of her high boots, and he gave it a tug, her eyes snapped open wide and she looked at him incredulously, blushing brightly.

“Wh- I didn’t think you’d be this… _smooth_?” She sat up to remove her boots herself, and Callum tugged his own off in turn before joining her on the cushions, yelping as he sunk much deeper than expected and keeled over backwards into the soft mass.

“A little help, here?” He asked over Rayla’s chortling laugh. Her hand closed around his waving wrist, and she easily pulled him back to the surface, clumping more of the pillows together before dropping him back onto the more supportive spot.

Rayla leapt into his lap, straddling his hips, and met his eyes with a triumphant look, her open vest hanging loosely from her shoulders. “My turn.” She batted his hands away from his buttons. “No! You got to do mine, so I’m doing yours.” She went to work on his doublet, and Callum settled his hands on her thighs. Rayla paused, blinking, as her blush darkened while he caressed between her hips and knees.

“Stop _distracting_ me, damn you, _I’m_ trying to memorize _your_ body here.”

He grinned, attempting to mirror her usual smirk. “I’m just doing the same.”

Her eyes moved between his before she leaned down to kiss him, breaking it too quickly. “Fine. Sit up. This thing is awful.”

He lifted himself, and helped her peel the fancy clothing from his body. She moved to press him back down, but he took a hold of her vest and leaned into a long kiss as he pushed it off her shoulders and down her arms. Tossing it aside, his hands returned to her bare back, touching the clasp of her binding…

Rayla’s chest heaved, and she swallowed heavily before whispering. “Do it.”

Callum held her defiant gaze as he unbound her breasts and let the thin strip of cloth follow her vest. Without looking away, he followed his desire and pulled their bodies together, letting the full contact of her skin burn its impression into his own. Rayla took a hard, deep breath before he pressed his lips to hers.

She softened against him, but grew more feverish, impatient, almost frenzied, as her hands roved his back. Rayla clutched him against her, finding any way she could to press their bodies more tightly together. Memorizing the sensation.

“Callum, Callum, _Callum._ ”

He answered by pressing his lips against her collar, her shoulder, the juncture of her neck, the pulse beneath her jaw.

“Rayla…”

Hooking a hand over each of her shoulders, he squeezed her bodily down against him and ground his hips up into her, earning another sharp gasp.

“W-wait, I can’t-”

Callum let go and leaned back, but she pulled their chests together again and hooked her chin over his shoulder. He tentatively brought his hands up to her back, and she wriggled closer against him and sighed as he laid his neck against hers.

“I can’t do… that. Sorry if that’s what this looked like. I _do_ want to touch you, and have you touch me, but I can’t take _that_ risk, not tonight. Not yet. I _want_ to, with you, oh do I ever, but I _can’t,_ Callum.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her neck.

“Okay.”

Rayla shook with either relief, amusement, or both as she squeezed him. “You always say that!”

He leaned back, and she lifted her head from his shoulder to share a kiss.

“It’s always okay, with you. We can wait.”

Rayla’s head bowed, slightly, so Callum pressed his forehead to hers. “Take as long as you need.”

Her smile wobbled. “Thank you.” Another deep breath before her eyes opened and she lifted her head. “I’m kind of impressed that you didn’t _look_ at me just now, you know.”

He let his eyes wander down to their joined chests.“Well… the night isn’t over, is it?”

Rayla blushed prettily and tried to hold back a smirk, but didn’t cover herself as he leaned away.

“I suppose not.”

She still squirmed as he drank in her bare-chested image, searing the sensation into his mind when he gently cupped a breast, etching her taste onto his tongue when he took a quickly-hardening bud into his mouth, bidding her moaning gasp to echo in his head forever.

Rayla growled in frustration. “Ah, dammit, why does this feel so _good?_ ” Callum shrugged as he nibbled her collarbone. “Forget making _you_ wait, I’m making _myself_ wait at this point. Gah!”

“Will it be long?”

“Oh, no, as soon as I’m in the clear I’m hunting you down. Not longer than a week. I’ll be taking this, now.” She was unfastening his belt, seemingly intent on memorizing even more about him. “But uh, maybe we can keep our smallclothes. Tonight.”

%%%%%%%%%%

Rayla ignored the lawman as he droned on, her list of transgressions longer than his arm. She could only look down at her shackled hands, long cleaned but still stained with the blood of her allies. Her mentor. All the hard work, the toughness she’d built up over the years of earning calluses and spending tears, gone to waste.

She felt the familiar prickle at the corners of her eyes, and this time fought it down. Folded the burning guilt upon itself until it didn’t hurt quite so much, and pushed it away. Down, down, further down, until she felt nothing at all.

Another human approached the bars of her tiny cell.

“Normally, your crimes would earn an immediate execution, but we have… plans for such a public nuisance. Lord Viren? She’s all yours.”

Every elf’s worst nightmare appeared, and his confident smirk was all the gloating she could handle.

Rayla couldn’t stop the sneer from forming on her face. “Lord Viren,” she greeted him, and spat as far she could towards the man, wishing she’d practiced the skill more often.

“Rayla, was it? Or do you prefer the commoners’ name for you? What was it again?” He feigned recollecting the memory of a name he’d signed a warrant for himself. “Ah yes, ‘Moonlight.’ A rather silly name for a sneak thief-turned assassin.”

“I’d do it all again.”

“Oh, I’m sure. That’s why I’m giving you one last opportunity to _kill_ again, since you failed that night.”

Disgust rose like bile from her belly- whatever he had in mind was no doubt some sick, twisted game. 

The thought was remarkably close to the truth.

A self-satisfied smile spread over his face. “You will be featured in the grand re-opening of the arena, a high honor for the first elf to step foot inside.” 

The arena… a sick legend told to elven children. A gross display of violence and bloodshed, for what? Human amusement? The concept had sickened her then, and she had been pleased to learn the colosseum was only used for public displays these days- until now, apparently.

How had he convinced King Harrow to allow this?! No, no, it really wasn’t all that surprising… with his queen long-passed, the king had lost backbone over the years. That was part of why… well, that didn’t matter anymore.

“You have three days. Enjoy them.”

%%%%%%%%%%

It was three months before he saw Rayla again, not the week she promised, when he agreed to tag along with Soren to the colosseum as a part of his birthday celebrations.

Callum’s mother had always pushed back against the arena’s re-opening, and that kind of… sport was far from his tastes. But Soren had been a good friend, and Callum resolved himself to enjoy the refreshments and company while ignoring the bloody spectacle.

They sat in the nobles’ shaded seating, waited on by staff. Claudia had begged off, rambling about some rare time of the year to experiment in her lab, and they planned to meet up with her again at night. Callum scanned the crowd of the bowl-shaped structure, seeing elves and humans alike mixing throughout.

Soren reclined in his seat as the herald ended the opening ceremonies with a deep bow towards the royal box and its empty throne. Harrow had no stomach for the games, either, and let Lord Viren preside over them in his place- the commoners didn’t seem to mind.

Said lord stepped forward into the protruding balcony, and raised his hands for silence. The crowd did, eventually, quiet, and Soren’s father announced the commencement of the day’s games before stepping back into the shade.

The gathered people roared and stomped their feet, creating a thundering effect, and Callum was bewildered at the energy buzzing in the place. Was this truly the outlet his commonfolk desired?

The herald finished climbing into their crow’s nest of a podium and announced the first contest- a proper duel between two minor nobles whose names barely twinged in Callum’s memory. So this place was used to settle grievances as well as entertain folk…

Soren interrupted Callum’s thoughts with a heavy sigh. “Geron is going to _murder_ him. This is stupid.”

“So certain?”

The blond snorted. “Uh, yeah. I trained them both myself.”

Callum nodded, taking a drink as a gong signalled the beginning of the duel. Soren rambled on, but eventually reached something that Callum couldn’t ignore.

“What I’m really here for is the _Moonlight Fight_.”

He lurched out of his seat with a cough, spraying wine across the floor.

“Hey, you okay?” The genuine concern written on his friend’s face was a small comfort, and Callum smiled to reassure him.

“Yeah, yeah, just went down wrong. Did you say Moonlight? The thief?”

“You mean the _assassin?”_ That... couldn’t be right. “Yeah, she’s been here since they re-opened the place. Still technically champion and _crazy_ popular, but dad says it’s gone on long enough and has tried to rig her matches for like three weeks.” He chuckled, watching the duel below. “Can’t kill her, though, she’s one tough elf.”

Callum sat heavily, in a daze, his mind whirring back through everything he’d overheard.

_Is that elf still champion?_

_Oh yeah, she can’t be killed!_

_That last match was brutal._

_I know- I think they’re really trying to get rid of her._

“Hey are you _sure_ you’re okay? Looking pretty pale there, Cal.”

“Yep! Perfect, see?” He crammed a few grapes into his mouth and took a swig of his wine.

“Alright… you don’t have to stay, you know.” Soren looked back to the grounds as the crowd roared. “Oof. But yeah, I know you hate this place. Claudia’s still in her lab if you want to hang with her.”

Callum sighed. “That’s okay, Soren. I’ll… stay for the Moonlight fight, too.”

His friend’s eyebrow quirked. “Caught your interest, huh? I’m not sure I could beat her myself.”

That was high praise, coming from Soren.

“Something like that.”

The shadows seemed to crawl across the grounds and the crowd as the day wore on, but the promised event did come, announced by the herald.

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” The crowd roared in response, just as energetically as when the games began- perhaps louder. “Will your _reigning_ champion defend her title and position at the head of this brutal world? Iiiiiiintroducing her challenger, MANDRA! OF! DUREN!”

Even Callum knew that name- a reputed monster of a man, brutal and efficient in all things, with no regard for life or anything held sacred by others. Technically enlisted in Duren’s armed forces, he worked as a mercenary throughout the world, and was practically a living legend with a penchant for delivering his trophies in more than one piece. There could only be one reason he was here.

Callum swallowed as a massive figure stalked across the packed dirt to the center of the space- ‘monster’ may not do his size justice, even from this distance. Too many weapons crossed his hips and back, and he raised a fist to varied cheers and boos from the crowd. Dark hair spilled from the back of his half-helm, and the scattered plates of armor he wore shimmered in the low sunlight- polished for effect?

The herald started again, and the crowd hushed for him. “AND! YOUR! CHAMPION! MmmmmmmmmmOOONLIIIIIGHT!”

Soren leaned forward in his seat while Callum suppressed the urge to run to the balcony. He _did_ notice more guards stepping in to line the edges of the arena, on the grounds themselves and around the rim of the seating.

It was her. It _had_ to be. The hair was shorter, the tip of one horn broken off, but it was her. She entered the arena from below their seats with a reluctant walk, ignoring everyone but her opponent. As they closed, she made some kind of gesture Callum couldn’t see, and Mandra roared with laughter, throwing his head back. She wore simple leather armor and carried two curved swords, nothing like Mandra’s personal armory.

“He’s going to kill her.”

Soren laughed. “I dunno, man, she’s been up against some pretty tough stuff before and always comes out alive.” He frowned. “But maybe you’re right, Mandra is no joke. Either way, this should be a good fight!”

_A ‘good fight’?_

Callum clenched his jaw and focused as the gong rang.

Rayla was fast. She always had been. Had to be. But Mandra’s size belied his speed, and he kept up with her. The crowd cheered when Rayla spun under a vicious blow and kicked the man’s knee out from under him, but she backed off instead of pressing her advantage.

“It’s always the same with her.”

Callum didn’t look away as the Dureni mercenary drew a chained hook from his belt. “What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t exactly toy with people, but she won’t kill her opponents, no matter what.”

“How does she win, then?”

“Wears them down, or disarms them. Makes it so obvious it’s over that we have to call it. The crowd was _pissed_ the first few times but we all expect it, now.”

Callum’s breath shortened as he watched the duel- blows traded, ground given and taken. Each time his heart leapt into his throat, Rayla twisted away from certain death, and his chest ached whenever she forced a vulnerability before backing away.

The duel eventually came to a head, when Rayla twisted a little too slowly, or perhaps predictably, and Mandra cut upwards along her flank, tearing a long hole in her armor and arcing a thin line of blood through the air. Her cry of pain had Callum on his feet, and his chest heaved as he watched her roll away to gain distance.

Another mixed response from the crowd as the herald crowed “First Blood to Mandra!” Money was likely changing hands, just from that.

Even with his extremely minor medical training, Callum knew the wound could easily tear from continued fighting, especially with her acrobatic style, and the bleeding would only slow and weaken her as the duel dragged on.

Soren had a similar read as he joined Callum at the balcony’s edge. “This is gonna be it.” The crowd collectively held its breath, waiting for the end.

A flash of metal was one of Rayla’s swords flying through the air as she flipped and twisted around her opponent’s attack, then she was punching up under his helmet with the butt of her weapon.

Mandra’s elbow drove into her gut even as his choked gasp filled the air. Both compatents collapsed, and Rayla struggled to crawl away as Mandra’s hands flew to his throat, unclasping his helmet and throwing it to one side. His wheezing breaths echoed across the silent arena once, twice, before the crowd exploded as Rayla staggered to her feet.

Retrieving her lost weapon, she struggled back to her opponent, clutching her stomach as she held the sword to his exposed neck. The man clearly couldn’t breathe well, and Callum’s stomach dropped as he heard a chant pick up through the crowd, growing louder.

“BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!”

Soren waved a hand dismissively. “They don’t always do this, it’s just known that she won’t. Like I said, kind of her thing.”

Viren had stepped into the forward balcony as he had a few times the day, again raising his hands for silence.

“The people have spoken, Moonlight. Give us blood!”

The crowd erupted in frenzied cheering at the declaration, but Rayla dropped her weapon. Callum caught his first good look at her face, now lined with three vertical markings ‘through’ each eye. He swallowed her name at the sight of the plain fury in her face, directed at Viren.

Lifting a fist towards the royal seats, she tucked her thumb and raised her middle finger in a common vulgar gesture. The crowd renewed its cheering and booing alike as she raised her second hand to mirror the first, slowly turning to seemingly address each member of the crowd with both hands, telling them in no vague terms to _fuck off._

The herald took over as Rayla staggered back the way she’d come, out of sight.She never looked up to see him. Medical personnel approached Mandra.

“THE CHAMPION CONTINUES HER REIGN! CAN SHE NOT BE STOPPED?!” The crowd’s roaring and Callum’s own pulse thundering in his ears drowned out anything else said. It took him several moments to notice Soren was waiting for him to say something.

Callum turned to his friend, throwing all caution to the wind as fear and excitement and yearning all vied to be heard.

“I need to see her.”

%%%%%%%%%%

Rayla hissed in pain as she attempted to clean the long cut on her side, and reconsidered her rejection of the staff medic. Her ‘apartment’ in the arena was well-furnished, including a large mirror, but she couldn’t twist and look at the wound without risk of tearing it further.

The heavy lock on her door clanked, and she heard the outer door swing open before unfamiliar footsteps padded in, and the outer door slammed shut. The lock turned again, sealing whoever inside with her. _That_ was irregular enough for her to stand, lower her shirt, and grab a blade.

Behind the inner grate, a heavily-cloaked figure had one arm in the open, with a basket tucked beneath it. Someone sent to end her, since the public ploy wasn’t working out?

Rayla lowered her stance. “Viren finally lost his patience? Let’s get this over with.”

But their response was the last thing she expected- a voice she’d thought lost to her, filled with so much hurt and grief that the sword fell from numb fingers, clattering loudly between them.

“Rayla?”

If this was some trick it was a damn good one- but no, he’d drawn the hood back and revealed that same face, stricken and twisted _just so_ that she stumbled forward, ripping the grate open with a wince, but stopping before throwing herself at him. He’d not even taken a step back.

Carefully, slowly, as not to break the spell if this was one, she reached out a hand to his face, matching the glimmering green of his eyes to those in her memory, the dainty nose, the cheekbones, the soft lips, the cut of his jaw.

“Callum…”

He sighed, looking away from her eyes, and the moment was over. “Let me get a look at you.” Callum glanced beyond her into the room, and Rayla stepped back, towards the seat she’d vacated. This… wasn’t the reunion she expected.

He placed the basket on the ground and knelt next to her stool. “Sit?” It was a question, not a command, and she sat, presenting him with her wounded side. 

She was pleased to note his blush when her shirt came all the way off, and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.” Less, even. The cut hadn’t quite reached her chest binding.

“Yes it is.” His blush faded as quickly as it came, and he eyed the new wound, of course, but the scars criss-crossing her body as well. Pockmarks, blemishes, burns, scratches, cuts… Rayla blinked, realizing just how much she’d actually been through in their time apart. 

Rayla struggled with the strange new feeling of wanting to hide her imperfections while Callum dug into his basket. She needed a distraction. “Like old times, eh?”

He snorted, handing her a spool of thread. “That’s not funny, but… yeah. It is, isn’t it?” 

She turned the cotton string over in her hands. This meant stitches. Perfect. But now he was soaking a strip of gauzy bandage with a cleanser.

“This is going to sting.”

“Uh huh.”

It did. More than she’d imagined, but there had been worse. He smeared on some odd-smelling goop as well, 

“Thread.”

He was still slow and careful, but oh so _gentle_. Always. Rayla watched him work, leaning close and pinching his lips together as he focused, wincing whenever she grunted or twitched involuntarily. She rested her elbow on his head, playfully, and he failed to hide a smile while he stitched. “I could almost see your ribs here.”

It hadn’t felt _that_ bad. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. You’re thin.”

“Huh.”

He rolled his eyes and finished. “There. I’m guessing you know not to tear these?”

“Yep. Had a few over the… months? It’s hard to keep track in here. Can’t feel the moon, somehow, but it still heals me at night. Dark magic, maybe.”

Callum seemed to notice the room for the first time. “Oh. This is _not_ what I expected for a... prisoner.”

“Yes, well, being ‘champion’ or whatever apparently affords me some privileges.” She gestured towards the far side of the room. “Big bed, big bath. Probably meant for someone huge like Mandra, not a little thing like me.” Rayla chuckled, and blinked in surprise to catch him watching her.

Callum was wary and withdrawn, not filled with the warmth she wanted and needed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Rayla… what do people mean when they call you an assassin? I thought you were a… rogue. A scoundrel or something, not that you actually _hurt_ people.”

She froze. Of course he didn’t know… 

It all came out in a rush, despite her not wanting to sound desperate. “Y-you saw me out there! I don’t hur- well, I don’t _kill_ people. I could have! They _want_ me to! But I won’t!”

A bit of the pained longing flickered through his eyes, and he made to reach for her, but the hand stopped, closing into a fist that he withdrew.

“I _did_ see that. And I’m glad for it, I really am. But tell me why they call you that. _What did you do, Rayla?_ ”

“I…” She sagged, letting her eyes drop to his feet. “I was always an assassin, Callum. How else could I have stayed alive so long here?” She gestured vaguely at the wall behind her, towards the arena. “No thief could fight off someone like Mandra- I was trained to fight larger opponents.”

Callum didn’t respond, and didn’t move, so she continued. “My da-” she swallowed a sob “-my mentor raised me as an assassin. I never really _understood_ what it meant. I never killed. But I was fast, and strong, and they were so _few_. He took me along unblooded and I… I failed them.”

She didn’t look up when the almost burning warmth of his hand engulfed her shoulder.

“Good.”

Rayla wanted to shake him off, but couldn’t muster the strength, trembling with grief and self-loathing. It had bubbled up out of nowhere, after not talking- not _thinking -_ about it for so long. “No, Callum! Not _good!_ I got them all killed! I- I’m all alone, now, I’ve no idea where the last of my family’s gone to.” Ethari had left so long ago...

Both hands on her shoulders now, steadying her.

“Not alone, Rayla. You have me.”

This was the worst part, and she choked on his name before getting it all out. “No, Callum, I don’t. You’re noble, right? Your life is easy because of the monarchy and its stability? Callum, they brought me along when they attempted to… _remove_ the royal family. I got us all caught, and it didn’t happen, but that would’ve _ruined_ you! To Katolis I’m a- a traitor, or a- a- I don’t know, and I _didn’t_ know, but- Callum?”

His hands had fallen away, and he’d taken a step back. She raised her eyes to his, now, afraid but _needing_ to know, and saw only stark, bewildered confusion.

“Callum?” She stood, wincing as her wounds stung, but he took another step away.

“Rayla, you- you-”

“Callum, _please-”_

_“NO!”_

He looked as startled as she felt by his outburst, but he gathered himself, fists clenched at his sides.

“Rayla, my noble title is _Prince Callum of Katolis._ ”

Icy cold welled up into her gut and the world unfocused. _Prince_ Callum? But that couldn’t be right. Human politics were never her strong suit, but… one pure-blood prince, and the other crowned by marriage… His mother, Sarai, all those years ago, had become Queen, and brought him into royalty? That… might be…

Callum’s movement refocused her, and Rayla stepped forward, lifting the hand of her uninjured side.

“Callum-”

But he _flinched_ away, not willing to turn his back, and the _fright_ in his eyes was enough to wrench her heart from her chest.

Rayla collapsed as Callum fumbled through the inner grate of her room and hammered on the door. The lock and vague speech barely registered as she sobbed into her hands.

%%%%%%%%%%

“Dad.”

“Ah, Callum! Come to indulge an old man in some sporting competition?” The king gestured to his favorite gaming board with a smile- the two had bonded over the grids and carved figures.

“Not now, dad. I’m here to talk.”

“Oh? Now, or over dinner? It’s been quite a while since you asked to have Big Feelings Time.” Harrow chuckled.

“Dad, no,” Callum sighed- his step-father always seemed so bright and optimistic in person. Hopefully the rumors and hearsay were false. “I want to talk about Xadia.”

The mood chilled as Harrow’s eyes glassed over, his expression tightening, but the moment passed into something carefully neutral. Poised. Diplomatic.

“I see. About your mother?”

“And more. Tell me everything. I’m beyond old enough to know.” He knew pushing harder would get him nowhere- the king responded poorly to pressure, but Callum did raise his chin to preemptively defy any misgivings.

Harrow eyed him before sighing heavily, deflating into a posture Callum had never seen him in. “We’d best sit. This may take all night.”

%%%%%%%%%%

The next weeks… months, maybe… melted away from her in an unremembered haze. The roar of the crowd dulled into a vague hum every time she was dragged out to fight, and her wounds multiplied as her focus slipped. By all rights she should be long-dead, but her training and some strange base instinct moved her limbs on their own, without her conscious direction.

Rayla got sloppy and stuck a cocky street duelist who thought forcing her to use his preferred weapon would give him an advantage. Her first kill, a complete accident, and she felt nothing as his blood sank into the grounds of her prison, any shame poured into the hidden pocket where she kept it all.

She self-cared so poorly that another elven prisoner was brought to make certain she ate, cleaned, and rested. The older woman’s fingers danced on harp strings in a way that somehow eased Rayla into sleep each night.

But he was gone, and she had no one left. Not in the city.

Until one night, when she was guided back to her quarters in a miraculously uninjured daze, and Callum was _there_.

Standing over a mass of parchments at a new, long table, not even turning to greet her, but certainly Callum. Her companion prisoner was held from entering by the guard.

Rayla stared at his back, the same red mantle draped around his shoulders, and shivered when he hummed, comparing two documents side-by-side.

Callum’s presence alone grounded her back in reality, and she self-consciously bathed, tended her wounds, and nibbled a meal, all the while watching him from across the room. He seemed completely engrossed in his work, shuffling through scrolls and consulting thick tomes from a stack.

One of them needed to speak, and this may have been his way of patiently waiting for her to approach. Unable to stand the pressure any longer, she walked to his side. They exchanged a glance, and he _smiled_ somehow _,_ but she looked away. 

The scrolls and books were mostly in some old dead version of Human Common, and she could guess at some words, but it was largely lost on her. Not really trusting herself, Rayla cleared her throat and broke the silence.

“What are you doing?”

“Researching laws.” He gestured to encompass the table.

Her nose wrinkled, but her voice was distant, not the playful tone she wanted to come out. “So you really are a prince.” She glanced up and saw a grim expression on his face. Not sad or angry, but the determined look of someone accepting their unpleasant fate. One she had seen in the mirror countless times, now.

“I am.”

Rayla ducked her head and crossed an arm over her chest as the shame of everything began to come burning back. If things were just a _little_ different, their life-threads would have crossed terribly, instead of the way they had.

But she much preferred this way, in this life, shame and all. He still lived. Her eyes followed his hands on the sheets, thumbing open books and respectfully keeping aged scrolls from wrinkling any further. Her skin nearly _itched_ with the desire for him to touch her again, hold her again, the way he had before. 

Feeling envy towards _paperwork_ was not natural.

“Ray-”

“Cal-”

They stopped and regarded each other, but Callum spoke first, with a small grin. “You first, I insist.”

Convenient, as she would have insisted herself. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I need to know one thing.” Rayla took a deep breath. “Are you okay? With me? Now that you know?”

Callum swallowed roughly. “I talked to my dad. The king. About that, and… everything. He gave me a _lot_ to think about, so I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner-”

“Callum _please,_ yes or no? Are we okay?”

His eyes widened when she interrupted him, but they softened as his smile slowly reformed.

“We’re okay, Rayla.”

That was all she needed to hear, and Rayla threw herself at him, pressing her face into his chest, pulling him tight against her. He returned the hug more gently, of course, in his particular way, always giving her the option to break free. The slow, warm strokes on her back made her sob more heavily, with relief or in shame or at the renewed sensation of a strange weight in her chest that had returned, after nothing but hollow emptiness for so long.

When her tears had been spent, he leaned back with only concern in his eyes. “Rayla, your horn…”

Right. He had seen the small chip, but… recently-ish, maybe… the same side had lost a bigger chunk. It had since healed over, mostly, but a half-horn was shameful to many elves.

“Ah, yeah, no big deal.” She tried to smile. “You should see _this_ -” reluctantly withdrawing her arms, she held her hands up between them, and Callum choked out a gasp.

“Rayla, you-”

She’d lost her outside left finger in the fight after Mandra’s, to an untrained blade skittering past her guard. It had taken a small wedge of extra flesh with it, making the hand seem even smaller than before.

“Oh, _oh, Rayla_.” Callum wept openly as he cradled the limb in his hands like a piece of delicate porcelain finery. “I should’ve been faster.” He hesitated, then placed tentative kisses to her remaining fingertips, her knuckles, her palm, then held the hand against his cheek, closing both eyes and leaning into her touch. “Could’ve spared you so much pain…”

The weight in her chest grew heavier as she watched his tears run, and Rayla steeled herself before pulling him closer again. “You’ve done what you can, I’m sure,” she continued, interrupting Callum’s attempted denial. “ _But_ I don’t want your lips on... my hand, right now. Before you tell me what you want to say, give me this night. Just this once, before- before _whatever_ it is. Please.” Slowly, attempting to mimic his gentle touch, Rayla slid the hand on his face across his temple, into his hair, and drew him closer, but he didn’t run…

The kiss, though small, was the spark she needed, and an unknown ember in her belly reignited into a blaze- her skin flushed, a shaky breath escaped her, and she was pushing against him more fully, as if to wrap herself completely in his embrace.

She kissed him desperately, almost furiously, cutting off his startled gasp when she shoved him against the wall. Her hands fisted in his hair while his settled around her waist and neck, tugging her closer even as she struggled to press their bodies more tightly together in any way possible.

Hot breaths puffed into her hair, and Rayla broke away to pant into Callum’s neck. “Sorry. For not being gentle, like you. I tried, but…”

“Don’t be sorry.” His voice was rough in her ear, and the almost-growling edge of it sent gooseflesh rising down her arms. He turned to look her in the eyes, his own dark and heated. “Be Rayla.”

She smirked for what felt like the first time in ages. “Don’t regret saying that, prince.”

An eyebrow rose at the title, but Rayla renewed her offensive, grabbing his collar and belt, pulling him away from the wall and pushing him across the room while she fumbled at both, kissing him all the while. Callum stumbled at first, but let himself be pushed, dropping his mantle to the floor, reaching to unfasten her vest as she worked at his.

They followed the motions of what they had done before, to an extent, removing each other’s clothing and pressing their bodies together. Pulses raced and breath shortened as they traded and stole kisses from the other, but the heat between Rayla’s legs had built beyond anything just squirming her hips could satisfy.

Taking his cue from their last encounter, Rayla bodily scooped Callum into her arms and tossed him, laughing, onto her champion’s bed- always so lonely and cold, but no longer. Tugging both boots off and hooking her thumbs into her leggings, Rayla blinked and bit her lip as she grabbed her smallclothes as well, pulling them all down together.

Callum had followed suit, his pants now draped over the foot of the bed, but still wearing his own underclothing, he laid eyes on her again and froze, his mouth hanging open.

“Hah!” Rayla leapt bodily onto him, pressing even more of their bare skin together, but it wasn’t enough, and she tugged at the last piece of clothing between them. “Get this damn thing off, would you?”

She yelped in surprise when he hooked an arm around her waist and rolled them over, gently cupping the back of her head, and her struggle for dominance died on his lips as they met hers. His hands were hot on her already-warmed skin, and any tension she tried to build in her muscles melts away under his touch.

Rayla lurched up to follow him when he sat back to bare himself, and he smiled when she blushed at her reaction.

“What?! It felt _good!_ Hurry, hurry!” His eyes roved down her body even as he tugged his last bit of clothing off, and she didn’t shy away, wanting him to see just how much she wanted him, even parting her legs further. The upright shape of his manhood was plain to see, but the way his eyes _touched_ her was more captivating, in the moment.

When their eyes met, his glinted with the dark promise of more than gentle hands. Callum crept over her as she laid back again, and they both gasped when he pressed against her- the _heat_ of the contact threatened to agitate her desire into a painful burning, and her legs came up around him to pull their bodies together.

The breathlessness of her own voice was a bit of a shock, but Rayla couldn’t wait any longer, and pulled him down for a kiss before pressing her lips to his ear. “Take me, Callum, _please_ , before I have to-” a sharp intake of breath as he pushed inside her “-oh, hng, Callum, wait.”

Concern threatened to overtake the lust in his eyes as he pushed himself up to look at her. “Are you-”

“Just- just give me a moment, ah, you’re a bit different than I expected.” Rayla felt _stretched_ a little strangely. She’d explored her body before, fooled around a few times with another young elf, but that hadn’t been like _this._ Was it a human thing, or- she shuddered as Callum slowly began to pull back.

“Maybe we shouldn’t-”

“No! Give me more! Just- take it slow, maybe, at first.”

“Okay.”

Rayla laughed at the word, slapping his chest before clutching it when Callum pushed into her again, just a little, before withdrawing. “Ah, yeah, like that.” She closed her eyes and tried to relax, letting herself adjust, shifting her hips with his motion.

Finding a pace, he planted kisses across her brow, her temple, down her neck to her shoulder and chest. Each contact left a tingling memory on her skin, and Rayla’s hands wove into his fluffy human hair as he covered her body with his affection.

She wanted more, and clenched her legs at the end of his stroke, drawing him still further within her.

Callum adjusted with a huff of breath on her chest. “Mmf.” A silver tongue didn’t do him much good with a mouth full of breast- _ah!_ -or perhaps it did…

Rayla’s body practically buzzed with energy from the stimulation- his hands, his mouth, their sex- but she hadn’t taken him fully just yet, and he was so teasingly slow with her… Gentle was well and good, but the fierce itching _need_ within was rebuilding beyond what ‘gentle’ could sate.

“My turn.” She growled, unbalancing him to roll them over as she’d originally planned, wincing slightly as he plunged deeper yet, but not quite entirely. “But I’m not going to be gentle, I’m going to be Rayla.”

Callum’s mouth opened to say “okay,” but he caught himself and nodded instead, smiling more widely than she’d ever seen. But she wanted to see what other faces he would make…

Rayla leaned onto his chest, getting her feet under her, slowly taking more of him as she settled her weight on his hips. Callum’s eyes widened at the position change, and he instinctively gripped her ankles on either side of his hips. “Rayla? This looks pretty… intense. Are you sure-”

“I am. And I’m not going to stop until one of us can’t go on, either, but I want you to touch me. Here.” She took his hand and spread her knees, guiding him to the sensitive spot above their joined bodies. “Gently, as you always are. No matter how fast or hard I go, stay gentle and we’ll be just finnn _nne-”_ he’d already started, and she glared down at his smirk before squeezing him as hard as she dared, earning a sharp gasp from the prince.

“I didn’t- you can-”

“Uh huh- muscles are muscles, Callum, and I’ll use them as I see fit!” She squeezed again, and he shuddered. Rayla wanted to kiss his soft, stupid lips, so far away, and growled in irritation before lifting off him completely, standing, and the sudden emptiness staggered her for a moment.

“Wha-”

“Back up. Sit against the headboard.”

He followed her lead, propping a pillow up behind him- perfect for the extra room she needed. Eyeing his manhood- which _was_ a bit thicker than she’d originally expected -Rayla sucked in her bottom lip with tense excitement, stepped over him to continue and arched her back in a stretch, then gasped when his tongue made unexpected contact with her. She tugged her hips back, fisting both hands in his hair.

“Callum! What-”

He smiled up at her and shrugged innocently. “I like kissing you, and your lower lips are just as lovely as your face’s.” 

Considering the new sensation, Rayla found her body wanted more, and she straightened, bringing her heat back towards him.

“Then kiss me.”

He did, and Rayla’s knees threatened to buckle, both from the weakening pleasure searing through her core and the instinct to rut against him for more of it. Callum must have felt this, and brought both hands up between her legs to grip her ass, supporting her weight and pressing himself more roughly against her.

Rayla curled over him and reached to lean on the headboard when Callum guided a thigh over his shoulder, finding a better angle to pleasure her with. Her breaths came in gasps as she clenched him against her, and finally one particular drag of his tongue _exactly_ the right way stole her breath and set her whole body rigid for what felt like blissful eternity while he continued working her over-

-then Callum was slapping her thigh and protesting in a muffled voice against her, a pleasant tingle itself, but Rayla forced herself back and he gasped a lungful of air. Unable to stand, she sank into his lap, hands weakly hooked over his shoulders.

“I-” he struggled to catch his breath, massaging his jaw “-I thought you were going to crush me.” he managed to smile while panting, and the glistening wetness on his lips piqued her curiosity, so she kissed him, running her tongue to taste herself on his skin. Less pleasant than she’d hoped, but he didn’t seem put off by it at all.

She let him breathe a little longer, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth and pulling the bed sheet up to clean his face. “Ugh. You don’t have to do that again.”

Callum recovered quickly enough, smiling all the while and running his hands up and down her sides while she wiped herself from him. “I don’t mind at all- you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.”

“And I intend to enjoy myself again! You seem eager enough.” She glanced down at his rigid appendage squeezed between them.

“That’s one way of putting- ah!” Rayla had planted her feet again and reached to grip the headboard once more, arching herself along his length, rubbing him in her slickness. “Ah, _fuck…_ ” His eyes squeezed shut, eyebrows rising in... disbelief? 

“Hmm?” Her trademark smirk stretched Rayla’s cheek as she watched his expression twitch and change with her every move. “Royalty using foul language in my bed? The _scandal_ .” She teased his tip, her own body shuddering as she only _just_ avoided taking him in.

“I want you-” their breathing had grown ragged again, and she leaned in against his ear once more “-to give me every last bit you’ve got-” nibbling his earlobe “-so don’t you dare hold back.” He was already groaning with her movements, and now growled an exhale in response, hands sliding under her legs to grip her backside, steering her towards their reunion.

She chuckled, but was grateful for the support, increasingly uncertain of the strength in her legs during bedroom play. “Found a favorite handhold, have you?” His eyes opened as his chest heaved, and he nodded with a shrug, then shifted his posture to align himself with her.

They moaned in sync as she lowered onto him, her body more readily accepting his size, and the sensation of _fullness_ warmed her all over again when Rayla took him all the way to the... hilt. She snickered at both her stupid metaphor and his shaky breath. A shared kiss fanned their passion, and she raised herself slowly before _dropping_ back onto him.

Rayla gasped and winced at the plunge, but the pleasure overrode the pain, and she continued, encouraged by Callum’s harsh breaths and gasps with every stroke. She gained confidence as any twinge of pain eroded in the wake of the pleasant tension that grew and grew within her.

She switched to forcefully slamming their bodies together, striking a new height to her aching need, and Callum’s fingers sank into her flesh, adding his own strength to both directions of her motion. She couldn’t risk dropping either handhold to please herself, and instead focused on her lover, kissing anywhere on him she could reach.

“Rayla- I can’t- can’t-”

“Then don’t!”

Renewing her efforts to wring Callum dry, Rayla realized their frenzied clashes echoed across the room- no doubt her guard heard- but she cared not the slightest and delighted in Callum’s body curling up beneath her, so _tense_ before his release. 

A low, strained groan from his throat grew to a hoarse exhalation of relief, and he bucked up into her, throwing his head back. She didn’t _feel_ anything, though- ah, there! -until the tight slickness between them gradually changed textures to something softer.

But Rayla didn’t stop, and his hands fell away to settle on her waist.

“Ah- I- you-” he seemed in both pain and pleasure at once, a mixture she thought existed solely on the woman’s side of the deed, so she slowed. Rayla attempted to stroke his full length, but he perceptively shrank within her, spent, so she lowered herself completely and simply rocked against him, instinctively squeezing out anything he had left to give.

Frustration from the lack of her own release boiled just under her tone. “You hurt?”

He seemed to barely focus on her, panting hard, but Callum shook his head. His hands moved to caress her, and she shivered when he crossed over the sensitive nub he’d kissed before the act itself.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t…?”

“No, I didn’t.” She sighed, resigned to a cold bath. “That’s alright, you did me once with your mouth-”

“Let me.”

“Really, you don’t have t- eep!” Callum rolled onto his side, and Rayla felt him leave her completely. He took her hip and rolled her away until they faced the same direction, then pulled her flush against him. One arm pillowed her head and curled securely around her chest, while the other traced down her stomach…

“Callum…” She blushed at the way his name became a groan in her mouth. “Careful with my horns.”

He murmured an affirmative and traced her folds with too-gentle fingertips, dipping within her, making a sticky mess of her lap.

“What are you do-hng!” Now he was doing as she’d shown him before, gently, oh so gently, and her eartip was in his mouth while a thumb circled a nipple. The layers of stimulation re-ignited the heat in her belly as she writhed against his body, ‘trapped’ within his arms.

Unable to see him, Rayla closed her eyes and focused on their contact- his lips nibbling her ear, the warm hand cupping her breast and the hot breath puffing against her neck. But most of all the gentle pressure on her sensitive nub, where she rested one hand while the other reached back to sink into his hair.

“Yes- yes, there, like th- mm.” Rayla encouraged his levels of pressure and stroking patterns while he shifted his contact on her elsewhere. When his lips closed on the pulse in her neck, a thrill ran through her chest and Rayla clenched his hair roughly. “Yes, there!” This was the moment, and her legs closed around his hand when the pressure built just- right! - she curled up tightly, every muscle in her body tensing until the sharp rush of release turned her completely into the jelly that Callum always melted her into.

Hands started their gentle strokes as she gasped against the sheets, and one rested tentatively on her hip before pressing down, grinding her into the bed-

“Hey!” Rayla sat up, swatting his hand away. “Don’t start with me again, you!”

Callum seemed surprised. “Sorry, did that hurt?”

She looked away, embarrassed at how easily he manipulated her. “No, it was good, I’m just… extra sensitive right now is all.”

“Ah. I know what you mean.”

Rayla let her eyes trace up his body, from his feet to his now quite-less-impressive manhood to his surprisingly-toned-for-a-noble arms to his eyes, gentle and tender as she’d ever seen, but also a bit smug. “Well you look right pleased with yourself.”

His smile widened. “I _am_ ‘right pleased’ now- how about you?”

She reached to push a lock of hair behind her ear, but it was too short now and fell right back into place. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m pleased.” Unsure what else to say, her nose wrinkled at the odd sticky sensation between her legs. “Care for a bath? This is a bit…”

He laughed, but agreed, and took a particular interest in the heating magic embedded in her tub, meant for a prized fighter, not an unexpectedly long-term prisoner.

%%%%%%%%%%

Callum sat facing the wall while Rayla scrubbed his back.

“I’m honestly shocked at how long I lasted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Since we… last saw each other. How long has it been, exactly?”

Callum frowned, recalling which day that was. “Twelve days?”

The cloth paused. “Did you say twelve?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh.” She moved again, but slowly. “It felt… longer.”

They sat in silence while he tried to read the mood, but her hands quickly returned to their original vigorous scrubbing.

“I feel like this is backwards.”

“What, just ‘cause you’re a bit bigger? Bah! Now lean back.”

He did, sinking into the water enough that it splashed over the rim, but she pushed him deeper and guided him back against her, resting her chin on his head with the rest of him completely submerged.

“Now what?”

Callum blinked. “Uh… I’d like another go of it if you think-” 

She pinched his nipple and huffed a sigh. “Not _that,_ though I’m pleased to know how much you enjoyed it- I’ll think about it.” Her hand slid down to his stomach, where it traced slow circles, a teasing touch that grew both closer to and further from where he wanted it. 

“Now what for me? You’re a prince, but I’m still… here.” She gestured to the room. “We’re literally bathing in my prison cell after fucking in it.”

He cringed, but she was right. “The laws I was reading up on.” His hand broke the surface to point towards the table. “I believe I’ve… found something that will get you out of here.”

Rayla grew still, and her voice was small, barely above a whisper. “Truly?”

“Yes, but you’ll have to agree to a few things- Rayla?” Her body shook, but she squeezed him against her, not letting him rise or turn.

Her voice shook, but she spoke without needing to stop. “Callum I thought… I was sure I’d _die_ in here. The only reason I fought as long as I did was for one last chance to see you, and when I did… and you- we-”

Callum wrenched her arms from his chest and turned to embrace her, pulling her into his lap and sloshing more water out of the tub. “Hey, no, that’s not your fault, Rayla. You didn’t _know-_ ”

“But I _did_ know, Callum! All along! I knew what an assassin was, I _wanted_ to be one!”

“No, no, Rayla, you knew the _concept_ . The _idea,_ but not the _reality._ When it came down to it, you couldn’t, could you?”

She bowed her head. “No. I couldn’t kill the...”

He took her by the shoulders, as gently as possible, but firmly. “And that’s _good,_ Rayla. Maybe that makes you a bad assassin-” she frowned and tried to keep a smile off her face “-but it makes you a _good person_. And I know which of those I’d rather you be.”

Rayla looked away. “It’s… not that simple.”

He moved back into her line of sight. “I know it’s not, and it may never be, but that’s okay. For it to be complicated. We can work on it. Together, if you like.”

She eyed him through her wet hair. “What do I have to agree to?”

“There’s an old position in the royal court, long out of use but never officially stricken from law.” Rayla turned to face him more directly, uncertainty on her face.

“In the past, each member of the royal household would be escorted by an appointed knight at all times. Well, not _all_ times-” Rayla prodded him in the chest “-okay, okay! They weren’t _only_ knights, though, and that’s part what I was reading up on. Records.”

He knew this next part would sound like a textbook. “At times, throughout history, good friends, even mercenaries, would serve. And at _least_ once _,_ a long-standing champion of the arena was awarded the honor of one of these positions.”

Rayla sat up straight, eyes filled with so much hope that he was afraid she’d turn him down, and Callum took a deep breath.

“They were called ‘The Crownguard.’ “

%%%%%%%%%%

“Rise and shine, Prince Callum. You have a council to sit at seven-half.”

“That’s a lot less motivating when you’re muttering it into my hair, you know.”

They dozed in their shared bed in his room, her personal bed cold and lonely across the hall in her apartment, which now served as a glorified storage closet.

“Maybe, but we’d best be up.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead and ruffled his hair while he sputtered awake, swatting her hand.

Callum groaned, sitting up, and yawned while she threw the black and white tabard over her head and reached for her steel.

“How are you always so quick to rise? I didn’t know you were a sun...shadow… elf.”

Rayla ruffled his already-messy hair into an even worse haystack and chortled before leaning over him to trade a kiss. “I steal your vitality in the night, didn’t you know? That’s why you sleep so deeply.”

“Ah, so the rumors about elves being ‘bloodthirsty monsters’ only got the ‘blood’ part wrong?”

She slapped him upside the head good-naturedly. “Don’t push it, prince, or you’ll see how ‘thirsty’ I can be.”

“Promise?”

 _That_ was worth a laugh, and she hooded her eyes to look into his. “We’ll see.”

He rose, and stretched while digging through his wardrobe. “Ah, Vemilia is coming again today, isn’t she?”

Rayla smirked as she grabbed her sword belt from its home on the bedpost. “She’s a kind lass- a bit cruel that she can’t be turned down as quickly as she deserves.”

“ _Should_ I turn her down?”

Callum turned and froze, almost colliding with Rayla, who slid a hand fingers-first down his chest and just barely dipped into his pants before she withdrew it.

“What do _you_ think?”

“I think you take your teasing duties too seriously.”

“You _did_ let me write my own vows.”

“And I loved them.”

Rayla paused. He hadn’t said it. He hadn’t- well he _had_ used the word, but not in the way- she took a deep breath.

This was stupid.

She had become his Crownguard six weeks prior, to generally neutral confusion among the courts, but particularly satisfying red-faced rage from Lord Viren. His trophy prisoner snatched out from beneath him, and he was unable to reject a direct request from the royal family. The man was all cool decorum in court, but Rayla saw through the lies to the simmering hatred within.

Callum had, in no uncertain terms, made her promise to not take Viren’s life specifically, and she had agreed. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t work towards closing the arena once more, or otherwise thwarting the lord’s sick plots.

“Ready?”

Rayla startled out of her reverie and checked herself, making certain the bracelet he’d gifted her was secure under her armor. Peeking into their mirror, she eyed her newer markings, curved ‘fangs’ as once before, but of differing lengths to reflect the uneven Towers of Katolis.

“Ready, my liege.”

He frowned. “Where did you learn that one? People are _really_ going to look at you funny for that.”

She smirked back. “Who knows? And let them. I need to have fun when I can.”

Callum brought her hand to his lips. “I’ll do my best to satisfy you.”

They switched grips and Rayla brought his hand up to cup her cheek, closing her eyes with a sigh at the ever-gentle caress of his thumb. “You need more days off.”

He stepped closer, kissing her softly the way she liked. “We’ll find more time between appointments. Just for us.”

Rayla opened her eyes and felt her ears droop at the tender adoration she found in him. Callum may as well be a… jelly mage, melting her the way he did. He’d exhausted her very limited magical knowledge in hours, and was still looking for a way for humans to connect to arcanum.

He must have recognized her expression. “Oh, come on, Crownguard Rayla, don’t turn to jelly on me now! Who would watch my back?”

She rolled her eyes away from his smug look. “Besides the dozen courtly maidens watching you like a pack of vultu-”

“Hey!” Here it was, Callum’s defense of literal strangers… but he only threaded their fingers together, craning his neck to make direct eye contact with her. “You know you don’t have to worry about that, right?”

They had discussed it. Callum _may_ be forced to marry for political purposes, but the _extent_ of the marriage? Another story- he was unlikely to be required to produce heirs. Plus, Rayla was… ‘part of the deal’ now. Marry Callum? You’re essentially marrying her as well. That detail alone had already thrown off one suitor, much to her amusement.

Rayla had done a little research on royal marriage practices, struggling through the old Common language by moonlight. She hoped, one day, to find some old crumby human law that let them break all the rules without _actually_ breaking any rules, just the way he’d done for her. But until then…

She sighed, taking his gentle hands in her calloused ones. “I know, I’m just… anxious about it, sometimes. That’s all.”

He kissed her again, and she leaned into it for an extra moment. “You can _always_ talk to me, Rayla. I’m here for you.”

And she knew that, too. He was gentle, sincere, patient, and most of all _here,_ in her arms. Always open and willing to connect with her, ‘mind, body, and soul,’ he said.

“I know that, too, but thank you, Callum.” She smiled to show her sincerity. “And I’m ready.”

“Then let’s go. Together.”

“Together.”


	4. Artistry (Modern/College/Unhealthy AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two university students match on a dating app, and things... don't go well.
> 
> They're brought together again, after they've both had time to reflect, and things look... up, maybe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: SADwich (angst), toxic mentalities/relationship, badly-communicated feelings, Draw me like one of your French girls, injury/disability, BAD END
> 
> Xadia in the modern age:  
> Elves yes  
> Magic no  
> Elves no likey humans, in general.
> 
> I wrote the first 1500 as a self-challenge. Then the rest jumped out of nowhere and surprised me. So here it is.
> 
> Yes, they are flawed here, and say/do some really unhealthy/toxic things. This is by design. You have been warned.
> 
> Single bars are scene change/short timeskip, double bars means longer skip

Rayla looked over the coming semester's calendar again. Between her full-time class schedule, regular training, practice for various sports, and the internship she’d just agreed to, the coming months were booked _solid._ She groaned and let her head loll back- _why_ had she let Runaan convince her to push for the field experience on top of everything else?

Because she couldn’t let him down, of course. He was _depending_ on her to show up and show out. Always. She was his protege, his disciple, his sole pupil, and it wouldn’t do for her to be anything but _the best._

...but this was all weeks away, for now, and she still had _some_ wiggle room to do as she pleased.

Rayla grabbed her phone and scrolled through local events, hoping something would catch her interest, disappointed when nothing did. She hesitated, but opened Match2U and glanced at a few profiles, swiping them away.

Standard-issue- straight-laced sunfires, prim moonshadows and skywing preps that she’d be _expected_ to show interest in… but she stopped on one particular profile, a single word the blazing beacon of _unexpected_ in her eyes.

She swiped ‘yes’ for the first time in months.

================

“You matched with _Rayla? Sports star_ Rayla? _Perfect grades_ Rayla? _Campus Queen_ Rayla?"

Callum frowned at his longtime friend and bodyguard, but nodded. “Yeah, she plays sports, but look, she’s into dance too, and this quote on her profile is from an episode of-”

“Just show me.” Soren grabbed the phone from Callum’s hands and poked through her profile himself. “Holy _shit_ it _is_ that Rayla… how the hell…” his fingers moved faster.

Callum reached to snatch his phone back, but Soren easily avoided his hands. “Come on, man, don’t mess with my profile.”

“I’m just looking… and yeah, this is all Callum stuff. You reeled her in with family tourism pictures, a list of the books you’re reading and stupid movie lines? What am _I_ doing wrong here?”

Callum sighed, reclaiming his phone. “Soren, you don’t even use this app. ‘Security reasons’ or whatever, remember?”

“Oh. Right. Well… take her somewhere I can get my So _reign_ on, alright?”

“Sure, sure…” Callum sent Rayla a suggestion for their first meet-up, and was pleasantly surprised to see her typing a response almost immediately.

 **R** : Sounds good! See you there!

“We’re meeting tonight, apparently, so you might wanna find those car keys you lost earlier.”

“Good call, good call. I’ll just do… _that._ ”

Callum headed for his closet to make sure his good shirt was fresh.

================

Rayla walked into the small restaurant, and was immediately greeted by a smartly-dressed host, who gave a short bow and bid her follow them to her table.

‘Callum’ stepped out of the recessed half-circle booth to greet her, and the staffer left them together.

Her date looked exactly as he did in his pictures, round ears and all, with the same boyish smile and fluffy hair- smoothed down a bit, but it seemed uncontainable. He offered his hand, which she took, letting him guide her to their seat.

“It’s nice to meet in person- you put your profile pics to shame.” Cheesy, but not bad.

“You too, Callum, and I’m happy to see you weren’t some weird scam profile.”

His eyes still hadn’t dropped to her chest, despite the relatively low cut she was wearing. “Do you like mushrooms? I’ve heard they’re a specialty here.”

“Love ‘em.”

“Great!” He flashed that smile again and politely waved a server over to order.

This… might go better than she’d anticipated.

================

They’d moved closer together, meeting at the center of the booth, and drawn the privacy curtains down a bit. Callum tilted his head, questioning. He really was too cute. 

“What do you mean?” He accepted another stuffed noodle from her fork and chewed while she talked.

“I just feel that… sometimes _I’m_ getting a bit lost in all these things I’m keeping up with. Where’s _me,_ y’know? Would I be unrecognizable without the sports gear, or some other clear identifier of what I can _do_? That's… all anyone seems to care about."

Callum swallowed his bite and smiled gently over their shared plate. “Rayla, I think you’re the kind of person who’s driven and dedicated enough to do _anything_ well, when you put your mind to it, so you can’t really _be_ defined by whatever you’re doing.”

Her fork hit the plate with an audible _clink_ as her lungs emptied in a rush. Callum’s eyebrows rose, hopeful and worried at once.

“That… might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

He had the humility to blush at her praise, but his smile stayed earnest. “Well, I don’t _really_ know you, but from what’s on your profile and what you’ve said tonight, yeah. I believe that.”

Their knees touched as she shifted even closer, and he responded in kind when she leaned forward to kiss him, chaste and soft.

Rayla felt her own blush bloom on her cheeks as she sighed. “I am _so_ glad I saw someone so _different_ on that stupid app.”

Callum’s eyes moved to his wine glass. “Yeah. I feel the same way.”

================

Rayla was leading him to a nearby bar to continue their date, and Callum could feel eyes on them from other pedestrians and people inside the various stores they passed. He couldn’t blame them, Rayla was stunning, but he knew she wasn’t the _only_ reason they were looking.

Slipping his hand into hers, he was pleased when she barely startled and only smiled over at him, squeezing his hand. But he felt the need to ask, even if she’d written ‘holds hands on the first date’ in her profile.

“This okay?”

“Yeah.” He watched her shoot a smirk towards a scowling passerby. “And I just want to say that I respect you a lot, Callum.”

That came out of nowhere. “What do you mean?”

“For just honestly putting yourself out there like you are. It’s really brave, and I admire that in a person.”

He felt his stomach start to sink into his shoes. “Oh. Thanks.”

================

Rayla laughed and wiped a tear from her eye as Callum chuckled along. “ _Please_ tell me you’ve seen the movie? We’d have to go watch it _right now_ if you haven’t.” She really just wanted to get him alone- hopefully he’d pick up on that.

“Yeah, I’ve seen it. I thought you were quoting my profile on purpose, actually. I’ve got that line written in as a favorite.”

She blinked. “Oh, um, must’ve missed that, sorry.”

Callum swigged his beer and then picked at its label, not meeting her eyes for a moment. When he did look up, there was a new, guarded expression on his face.

“Rayla, can I ask you something? It’s… a bit weird, but I need to know.”

She straightened on her stool and turned more fully towards him. This might be the moment. “Anything.”

“Are we only on this date because I’m Human?”

The warm, sensual feeling coursing through her froze over in an instant, and she felt her ears sag. “ _Because_ you’re...?”

“Yeah. Seriously, though.”

“N-no, I, um.” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “I _did_ notice that, on your profile, but your pictures- you just seemed like a nice, happy guy, and I felt like I needed a little happiness?” 

It came out like a question, and Rayla winced. She only did that when she was trying to lie, and she hadn’t even made this one consciously. But… she genuinely liked him now, and that was all that should matter… right?

“And I _seriously_ apologize if I made you think in _any_ way that I don’t respect you-”

“No, no, I don’t think you see me as any less of a _person,_ and I appreciate that- I really do, after living here for a year now.” But Callum deflated, having sensed her unspoken answer, and shifted his beer from hand to hand on the bar. “It’s not you. I get it. It’s just the way everyone sees things here in Xadia, and it’s… hard to break that cycle, I guess.”

“But all I can really do is… get out there and try to meet someone who sees me for me, not what I am, and maybe finds some similarities, even dumb stuff like movies we both love.” He smiled sadly, and the soft pain in his eyes tore her straight down before he looked away again. “I don’t need to use an app to find reminders that I’m… different.”

Rayla couldn’t find a single word to say, and he dropped his head into one hand. “Sorry, I hope I’m making sense over here and not just going crazy.”

She frantically replayed their conversations in her head, trying to pick out signals she’d missed. “You’re not, I completely- I just… I’m not usually so… tongue-tied.” She tried for a smile, but he wasn’t looking in her direction anymore. “Callum, can I… buy you another drink? Please?”

He sighed, heavily, and straightened up, but still wouldn’t look at her. “No, thank you. I’m… gonna head home. Have a nice night, Rayla.”

And he was gone. The bulky blond at the other end of the bar caused a scene stumbling for the door after her date, but Rayla was too numb to really register more than background noise.

_What the hell just happened?_

================

================

“The university is _fully_ prepared to support whatever choice you make, Rayla- you’re still an honors student here, and you’ve done more than anyone in recent memory for the teams you played on.”

Rayla nodded, but didn’t answer, staring at her cast-bound ankle. _Played on._ In the past tense already.

“Well.” The President of the school looked between her and his papers. “Just call me whenever you make a decision. Take all the time you need.”

He stood and walked around the desk, helping her up onto her crutches. She fumbled them, but slowly made her way through his door.

“If I may.” The President apparently had one last bit of parting wisdom. As usual. She paused, listening politely. “I’d recommend anything you can be… _expressive_ with. Have you considered traditional art?”

That… didn’t sound too bad, really.

================

================

“Thank you!”

Rayla waved the student away, not bothering to give them so much as a nod of acknowledgement. The third-story window allowed her a view of students playing at field hockey, laughing and running about. Lowering her booted foot from the floor with a grunt, she heard footsteps approaching in the too-quiet hallway that led to the studio she was stationed in.

It was an exhibition day, and she’d been asked to allow students to view her work. With no reason to decline, Rayla agreed to laze about for the afternoon, letting overzealous students view her inept mess and attempt some kind of interpretation, or take notes, or… whatever they were doing.

The footsteps stopped short, and Rayla frowned, turning in her seat.

It was Callum.

She tensed, and they stared at each other for three heartbeats. His eyes flicked down to her boot, and he winced perceptively, but he only nodded to her in greeting and pointed towards her painting across the room. “May I?”

She nodded back, but didn’t return her attention to the players below. He approached the canvas, closer than others had dared, and lifted one hand to his chin. Rayla watched him meticulously examine her slop from various angles and distances, even squatting low and walking across the room, further than Rayla herself, for another perspective.

It would’ve been comical, if not for his aura of intense focus. She’d felt enough of the same on various fields and courts to respect it. This must be his craft, even if not his major. He took it so seriously...

Rayla let herself idly examine her painting along with him. It was a lunar surface, all shades of gray and a particular washed-out purple that spoke to her. Not _the_ lunar surface. That would be boring, and didn’t suit her needs, besides. 

She’d depicted imperfect cratering, valleys, oceans, lakes… everything that worked, anyways. It was a complete mess, in her eyes. Oils weren’t easy, but she liked working with a palette knife, and felt more confident with the hard ‘blade’ in her hand than a soft brush.

After what felt like an age, he turned towards her with a raised eyebrow.

“This is a self-portrait, isn’t it?”

Rayla went utterly still.

“Get out.”

He frowned. “W-what?”

“I said _get out!”_ Rayla reached for her crutches and made to stand, but slipped on the polished flooring and fell. Hard. She bit back a cry and struggled into a sitting position, booted foot outstretched.

When Callum approached with a worried expression and an offered hand, she threw a crutch at him, as hard as she could. It missed, clattering against the wall and floor, but he stopped, and she readied the second like a javelin, blinking back tears. “I told you to _get. Out.”_

He backed out of the room and slid the door shut between them. Only when she couldn’t hear his footsteps any longer did she drop the crutch and sob into her hands.

Why did it have to be _him?_

================

Callum walked back down the hall that led to Rayla’s room and paused at the third floor’s hub. She’d chosen to be alone in this wing of the floor, and posted herself at the far end. In the relative silence of the hallway, he heard a faint echo of her crying, and winced.

Maybe that hadn’t been his most tactful moment.

But he wasn’t a monster, and dragged a piece of lobby furniture into the entrance of the hallway, settling in and pulling his sketchbook from his messenger bag. He whiled away some time, letting his pencil flow freely, without direction.

“Um.”

Callum startled, and looked up into the face of a nervous-looking sunfire student, who took note of Callum's facial features and grimaced. “Is…” they glanced down at a sheet in their hand. “Rayla? Down there?”

He shook his head. “She’s not seeing anyone else today, sorry.”

“Oh.” The student seemed almost relieved. “Okay. Thanks.” They exchanged farewell waves, and Callum pulled his sketchbook back up.

Rayla, staring longingly through the window she leaned against, her booted foot clumsy and awkward on the floor.

Shit.

He flipped back a page.

Rayla, Rayla, Rayla. Rayla for pages and pages, he realized, sifting through the entire book and finding her in more than half of its available space.

When had he let _this_ happen?

================

Rayla wasn’t sure how long she’d let herself cry, but it was too much, for too long, and she was starting to get hungry. Leaving the painting, she gathered her personals and lifted herself onto her supports, walking to the door and the hallway beyond.

Some… thing was blocking the hall’s entranceway, and as she approached, Rayla recognized one of the low, sturdy lounge chairs scattered around campus, including this building. What she wished she _didn’t_ recognize was the tuft of dark, fluffy hair barely visible on the arm of the furniture.

Her crutches clacked, painfully loud on the hard flooring, but he didn’t so much as move, and she leaned over the chair to see what exactly Callum’s problem was. He was asleep. _What_ had he been doing all this time?

Wandering eyes found his sketchbook, folded over his hands, as if he’d fallen asleep drawing. Time to see what kind of artist _he_ was- she balanced on her good foot and reached for the book, stretching, stretching- and suddenly her pack’s weight shifted, tipping her over the the back of the chair.

She twisted to avoid landing on her head, and Callum startled awake, flailing after her as she bowled over him. His arms locked around her waist and he rolled with her motion, out of the chair completely and onto the floor.

“ _Oogh,”_ he wheezed beneath her, taking the brunt of the impact, and his arms tightened almost painfully around her.

“H-hey what the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?! Let me go!” Rayla noticed him cringe further, his eyes watering when she struggled, and she went limp, taking stock of herself. She felt… fine. Arms fine, legs fine- _oh._ She carefully removed her knee from his groin, and Callum curled up on his side, clutching at his privates.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

He nodded, breath huffing, and eventually pushed himself up. “I don’t think you uh… broke anything.” She winced at the mental image. “Just hurts. Here.” Callum was stronger than he looked, easily pulling her to her foot and helping her balance while he got her crutches under her arms.

“That was my fault, anyways, I didn’t mean to fall asleep here. Sorry.” He grabbed his sketchbook and shot her a worried look as he packed it away. Rayla found herself waiting while he moved the chair back into its original spot.

“What were you doing in my hall?”

Callum looked away. “I… heard you. And didn’t want anyone else to bother you.”

Embarrassment and self-loathing at having lost control in public bubbled up, and she felt her throat tightening again as she moved towards the elevator. “... _Fuck._ ” Why was he being so damn _considerate?_ It was making him hard to hate.

He stepped ahead of her and punched the call button. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Rayla stared at their distorted reflections in the elevator doors. “Shouldn’t have what?”

“Gotten in the way of your personal business like that. If anyone says you weren’t here, I’ll vouch for you. I’m the one who turned them away, after all.”

That was… something. And not at all what was upsetting her, but he was making an effort. “...thanks.”

He held the elevator door open and ignored her glare as he boarded as well.

“If this thing gets stuck for weeks I’m eating you to survive.” The stupid joke came out automatically, and she stared at the floor, shocked at herself. 

Callum side-eyed her, but played along. “At least let me eat your leg first, since you aren’t using it.”

Her eyes shot up to his, and he raised both hands in surrender, stepping back. “Hey, you’re the one who made it _dark._ ”

That was fair… and funny, really. She glanced down at her booted foot and chuckled. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

The doors opened on the main floor, and he fell in beside her as she turned towards the Student Union and its cafeteria.

“Rayla, um.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been… thinking, and I wanted to ask you out on another date.”

She stopped and maneuvered herself to face him. “Why?”

“Because I feel like we just... got off on the wrong foot.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he raised a hand to cover his face. “That… I’m sorry. That wasn’t on purpose.”

“Was about to say… I’ll give you _one_ foot joke per day, but don’t push it.”

“Is that a yes?”

Rayla turned her feelings over in her head, and found them blurry. Undecided. This would be a good way to iron their mess out, either way it went. “Buy me dinner right now.”

Callum brightened up, and his smile still fizzled something in her chest. 

_Dammit_.

"Great! Want anything in particular?"

She was going to push him, to make up for everything.

“I feel like... a sandwich.”

================

Callum followed Rayla into her bedroom and shrugged off his bag. “Are you sure you don’t want-” 

Rayla collided with him bodily, pushing him back against the wall, clutching him for support as her crutches clattered to the ground.

He staggered, but straightened and held her waist, letting her balance against him.

“Ray-”

She cut him off with a kiss, desperate and hungry. He tried to kiss her back, but she was moving too fast, kissing him rapidly, clawing at his shirt and belt.

“ _Off,”_ she growled against his neck as he gasped for breath, and his hands trembled as she took matters into her own hands, forcefully jerking his shirt from his pants and nearly tearing it open before getting to work on his belt.

All the while she kissed him, leaning her weight onto his hands so the only way for him to let go would be to drop her. He felt his zipper come down, and her hand reached inside- but he bent at the knees and scooped her up bridal-style.

With his trousers falling around his knees, Callum took deep breaths and shuffled over to the bed as Rayla squirmed in his arms, annoyed. He laid her down as gently as possible, letting his hand trail through her beautiful hair. “Let’s just… take a second, here, okay?”

But she ignored him and unzipped her skirt, yanking it and her shirt off and throwing them across the room. She pushed him back to sit up to unfasten the cumbersome medical brace on her foot, then hooked an arm around his waist and twisted her body, effectively tossing him onto the bed beside her.

Winded by the rough move, Callum wheezed as she yanked his pants off his feet and ran her hands up his thighs and over his still-covered hips, then she was straddling him with a predatory grin.

“Now _I’m_ going to examine _you,_ Mister Artist.”

“Rayla, I think-”

“Shut up.” She ground herself against him, and Callum couldn’t stifle a groan, tense heat growing in his lap despite himself. He blinked rapidly, heart clenching as the familiar image of long, black hair and a more hourglass-shaped figure flickered in Rayla’s place.

“Hmm…” her voice was low and husky, a tone he’d find sexy in different circumstances. “Sensitive, probably.” Her thumbs circled his nipples as he struggled to sit up, but when she flicked them his shoulders went numb, and he collapsed with a gasp, shivering.

Rayla chuckled darkly and laid atop him, dragging her bra’s rough fabric back and forth across his chest, sending little jolts and tingles of electricity all the way down to his toes. Her mouth closed on his earlobe as her hands fisted in his hair.

“Rayla-” he finally managed to gasp.

“ _What?”_ She sounded impatient, and pushed herself into a sitting position again with a wince, shifting her injured foot.

Panting, Callum had to wrestle the words out. “C-can we _please_ , just…” his vision was blurred now, and Rayla went still.

“Are you… _crying_?” She shuffled back on his legs. “...Why? Aren’t you… didn’t you...” He looked away, feeling a tear run from the corner of his eye, and she threw herself from him with a strangled cry, down onto the floor.

“Rayla-”

“No, _no,_ stop it! Stay _away_ from me!”

He struggled up as she pulled the door open and crawled out into her apartment on all fours. 

“Rayla…”

Another door slamming answered him as he swung his legs off the bed.

================

She sat against the side of her tub, legs outstretched, and stared down down at her clenched hands, willing herself to not cry in a way he could hear. Again.

Callum gently knocked at the door. “Rayla.”

She hated the way her voice wobbled. “I said _go away,_ Callum. It’s pretty clear now that I can’t do anything but… fuck things up around you, so just… go, and save us both the trouble.”

A sigh. “That’s not true. I like you, Rayla.”

 _“Then what the hell-”_ She bit off the rest, realizing it wasn’t going to do any good.

The door creaked, and his voice was closer. Lower. “I haven’t had… the greatest time. Here or in the Pentarchy. But that shouldn’t…” Another sigh.

Rayla pulled herself across the room, leaning against the door herself. This was getting so… personal. Not what she'd planned at all. “Shouldn’t what?”

“Shouldn’t keep me from finding what happiness I can. That just means I’m letting the assholes win. But it’s not about proving them wrong, it’s about… doing what _I_ want. Breaking that cycle.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“I was happy, on our date, Rayla. You’re… amazing. I can’t get enough of you. But…” The door creaked again as his weight shifted. “I let the assholes win that night. _I_ fucked up. What I said, about it just being the way people see things in Xadia… _I_ was seeing it that way too, and lashed out at you.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and a confession wormed its way up out of her stomach, but he spoke first.

“So I’m sorry, Rayla. It… wasn’t your fault, I was just being oversensitive. And I do like you, but that was a huge fuck-up from me, so… I’ll leave you be.”

She heard him stand on the other side of the door, and slapped her palm against it. “Callum, wait.”

Silence, but that meant he wasn’t moving.

“I… I _did_ only swipe on you because you’re human. I-” She swallowed down the parts of her that would _never_ let anyone know these things. What was he _doing_ to her??

“I wasn’t thinking straight. I wanted to be _free_ from all the… bullshit going on in my life. I wanted to be something _besides_ what everyone expected from me, even just for that night. I-I used you, for that, and I’d never forgive someone for doing the same to me, so…”

She sagged against the door, aghast at what was spilling out of her.

“So I’m a massive _weapon_ , is what I’m trying to say, and all I can do is hurt myself and everyone around me, so it really is just better for us both if you go-”

A sharp knock on the door, startling her. “Shut up.”

“...What?”

“ _Shut up_ and open the door, Rayla.”

Unthinking, she did as he asked, shuffling back to let the door swing open, and he knelt before her, carefully avoiding her bad foot.

“Did you agree to this… second date for the same reason?”

The undeserved warmth in his eyes _burned,_ and Rayla looked away, but he moved his face back into her line of sight. 

“Rayla?”

She looked down into her lap, where he wouldn’t push himself, and sighed.

“ _No!_ I… I think I like you, too, okay? There! I said it! You win! Are you happy now?”

Rayla startled when he took her hand between both of his, and when she looked up into his eyes, she felt herself teetering on the edge between screaming for joy and sobbing in denial.

“Rayla, I like you. That’s all. No winners or losers. I just like you. Is that so hard to believe?”

She bit her lip, wondering at how he could speak to her more with a _look_ than with words… but talk was cheap, and she whispered her demand, not trusting herself to raise her voice without losing her precarious position between emotional extremes.

“...prove it.”

Without hesitating, he leaned closer, and Rayla lifted her lips towards his, startling him back before they could make contact. A full kiss clearly wasn’t what he’d intended, and she tucked her chin, burning to her eartips with embarrassment.

This was stupid. She should just kick him out-

But his hand was on her cheek now, sliding down to ask if she would lift her face again, and she did.

His lips were soft, _so soft,_ and warm against hers.

Rayla shuddered, feeling the rigid tension of their encounter start to drain out of her shoulders. She leaned in when he started to pull away, and he responded in kind, cupping her face with both hands, before holding her in place as he sat back.

“Okay?”

She nodded, numbly, and that same _stupid_ smile came dazzling her out of nowhere, like a forceful shove pushing to the side of ‘joy.’ But… she landed softly. Where she’d expected a sharp _spike_ of happiness, a timid glow lit itself in her chest instead. 

And it was _warm,_ like his lips…

Rayla took one of his hands and turned it over, pinching his figertips right down to his pinker before doubling back.

"How long've you been thinking about this? Asking me out again."

"Er… might be better to show you. Come on."

She let him pick her up again, and blushed this time, cradled against his chest. He sat her on the edge of the bed and reached for her brace, but she stopped him with a shake from her head.

He grabbed his bag and knelt next to her again, withdrawing his sketchbook and leafing through it before placing it in her lap.

It was… her. From earlier that day. Looking sad as hell, staring through the window.

But it was beautiful, too, and he spared no details, even penciling in a faint reflection of her face in the glass.

"So... a few hours, at most? _Wow,_ Callum."

He snorted and turned to the previous page. Another sketch of her, arms raised in a standard dance form. "Keep going."

She did, stunned silent, and marveled at the sheer quantity, quality, and variety of how he'd sketched her. They were all so painstakingly detailed…

“How…?”

Callum’s mouth quirked in a tiny smirk. “I’ve got a… memory thing.”

When he didn’t explain further, she returned to the book, examining each sketch, whether or not they were of her. Rayla paused on a page of nude, anatomy-study style figures- not entirely accurate, but close. The one in the corner was a bit… sexy.

He coughed, blushing. "I was just… never mind. There's still more."

"No, no, these are good, but my nipples aren't _quite_ that large."

She smirked when she caught his eyes darting to her chest- aha! -before he turned away, blushing.

"Alright, alright, I'll keep going…" And she did, noting that some sketches were dated, and the sketches of her simply didn’t end, with at most a two page gap between them. She reached a piece marked almost exactly a week after their first date, and from there on it was all penciled Raylas. Smiling, laughing, shyly looking over the rim of her glass… what the hell, it was like he _loved_ her, but they barely knew each other.

Eventually, she reached the ‘first’ sketch of herself, and a landscape dated before they’d met. With a deep breath, she started back through his sketches.

“Um…”

“Shush.” Rayla hushed him, running a fingertip along the paper next to a particularly heartfelt-looking piece of herself, featuring a warm, tender smile. “What _is_ all this, Callum?”

“I told you already, I can’t get enough of you. I tried to draw you away, get you down on paper and out of my head. But it won’t stop. You’re my muse, I guess.”

Rayla rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that just your… memory thing, or whatever? Having trouble forgetting things?”

“I can just not think about them- it’s more like a catalogue… wait, wait, that’s not what we’re talking about here.” He ruffled his hair, and she resisted the urge to do so herself. “It’s more like... I can’t get you out of my _heart_ , and my heart is filling up my head.”

She just stared as he took her hand again, stroking it with his thumbs. “I like you, Rayla.”

Closing the book, she rested her unheld hand on its cover- the book somehow felt warm on her bare thighs. “I… shouldn’t have pushed you, just then.” She tossed her head towards the bed. “You’ve… clearly got some stuff going on, and I _really_ should’ve at least asked, I just didn’t- _couldn’t_ imagine being, um, rejected.”

She hung her head in shame, acknowledging how awful that sounded. Correction- how awful that _was,_ to have done to him. But he just kept stroking her hand, and nodded.

“That’s…” Callum closed his eyes and took a slow breath. “Yeah, I’ve got some stuff. So I’d really like to get to know you, but can we take the physical stuff a little.. Less intensely, maybe? I’ll get there, I just- just-”

“Hush, you don’t need to explain,” she reassured him gently, with a hesitant hand on his shoulder. This- holding back -might be difficult… she’d always been fairly physical. “Do you… want me to put my clothes back on? I don’t want to make it worse, or…”

“No, no, that’s fine.” He sniffled and laughed, softly. “It’s the… rough stuff, really. Don’t uh, shove me around so much and we’ll be alright, I think. Don’t… make a fight out of it. No winners and losers, okay? It doesn’t have to be all-or-nothing. There are levels besides zero and ten.”

All that sounded like a prepared debate against her usual style, but… if he needed something else, she would _try_ something else. “Well in that case, why don’t you correct your drawings?”

He blinked, clearly confused, so she reclaimed her hand and found the anatomical drawings she’d made a point of. “Wrong nipples, remember?”

Callum blushed all the way up to his hairline, but didn’t lose his confused expression. “Uh…”

“Just get your pencil and take a seat.” She gestured to the desk chair nearby, and he did as she asked while Rayla arranged her pillows into a particular shape on the bed, steeling her nerves while he made himself comfortable.

“Now tell me if I need to stop.” Rayla watched him very carefully as she reached back to unhook her bra, letting the straps slide down her shoulders before pulling the cups away. 

If Callum’s mouth moved, it was only to slowly fall agape.

She lounged back and hooked her thumbs into her panties, raising an eyebrow, asking if she should continue. His only answer was to swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing visibly, so she slowly shimmied them away, dropping them onto her bra.

Rayla pushed herself back, mindful of her foot, and laid casually along the cushions, attempting to imitate some of the fine art pieces she’d seen in books. She just needed one of those stupid fancy lounge couches, and it would be _perfect._

The scratch of pencil on paper filled the room, and Rayla watched Callum’s eyes track over her body, focused intently, as when he’d examined her painting. She became increasingly aware of a growing sensitivity to his attention- the sounds of his sketching creating a warm tension wherever she saw his eyes focusing.

Along her sides, around her hips, both the inside and outside lines of her legs... She sighed as his concentration touched her breasts, and she could feel their tips hardening as he memorized their accurate shape and size. Rayla’s breathing grew short and hot, even lying still, caressed to arousal by eyes that were now darkened with lust.

“Callum,” she sighed, and he hesitated, but continued his sketch.

She let a hand trail down from above her head, gently cupping a breast before moving lower. Biting her lip, Rayla let the expectant tension build within, tantalizing herself and, hopefully, Callum, with a splayed hand running down her toned stomach. Her eyelids flickered as she gasped, finally running her fingers between her thighs.

The air between them electrified as she dipped a fingertip inside herself, and Callum’s sketching grew frantic- she could hear _him_ panting as well, a bit of his fluffy hair sticking to his face.

“Callum, _please,”_ she moaned, and he was up in an instant, sliding onto the bed beside her. His touches were like fire, and she responded to each by pressing into them, receptive to his every move.

This was… not at all how she typically felt, in bedroom activity. A quick, hard release was what she expected- what she was used to. Callum was… melting her into an oversensitive puddle, and she _liked_ it, but felt the tiny nag of impatience start at the back of her mind, and squashed it.

Rayla turned on her side to face him, casually throwing her good leg over his thigh, and her arm around his waist. “Kiss me?” She asked, and he did, sliding his hand up her back and into her hair. He pressed flush against her, and the hot-iron firmness of him pressed through his boxers against her belly.

That tease quickened her pulse further, and when he moved his kiss to her neck at the same moment his gentile thumb caressed the base of her horn, Rayla felt her tension slip unexpectedly free and coil through her core. She tightened up to ride out the orgasm, and the additional friction between their bare chests sent a tiny aftershock along her limbs.

“Nnnnn _ugh!”_ She finally gasped, going limp against Callum.

“Did you just…”

Catching her breath, Rayla nodded, answering between breaths. “Horns… neck… sensitive… good… really good…you’re… okay?”

“Yeah, that was fine. Wow…”

The wonder in his tone felt out of place, and she opened her eyes to see him tenderly watching her, reaching out to gently cup her cheek. 

“Wow what?”

“You’re… glowing, Rayla. You’re so beautiful… I really, _really,_ cannot get enough...”

Rayla kissed him, barely a peck, and leaned out of his embrace, shuffling back into a more comfortable position, idly opening and closing her legs. She fixed him with what she hoped was a devious look, and made to spur him on. “Make me _believe_ that, would you?”

The lusty darkness in his eyes didn’t fade an iota as he crawled over her, planting kisses across her body…

================

“What did you say this was called?”

Callum smiled across the checkered board, dumping the bag of pieces. “In Katolis we call it ‘chess,’ I’m honestly surprised you don’t have a similar game here.”

Rayla picked up a horse-headed piece. “We might, but… games? Eh…”

“Just try a bit? I know you’ve been looking for some competition. Not to boast, but I’m pretty good, so…”

“Mister Memory, right?”

“Ah- yep, you caught me.”

She smirked and rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine- this _is_ your date time, after all. Show me how this works.”

Three practice games later, and she was leaning over the board like a seasoned strategist. Callum smiled, watching her narrowed eyes dart between the pieces. Every week he was finding another tiny facet of her to adore.

================

In her bed, Rayla nestled into Callum’s side, idly tracing a figure-eight across his chest.

“How did you figure it out, anyways?”

“Figure what out?”

“My portrait.”

“Oh. Um.” His fingertips played along her hip. “It just… from far enough away it looks smooth and perfect, just like the real moon, but up close you can see the... imperfections for what they are.” He coughed nervously, but his hand came up to capture hers, threading his fingers around hers the way only a human’s could.

“And I remembered what you said on that… first date. About no one really seeing _you_ , and it just… clicked? You were um… pretty mad about it.”

“I wasn’t _mad_ , I was just _pissed._ ”

“Er…”

“There’s a difference.”

“Sure, sure, but… why?”

“Because you had just burned me a month or whatever before, after being the _only person_ I’d ever met who… saw me. And then you did it again, like it was nothing, and that was _infuriating,_ but you’re wrong.”

“I am?”

“I just took a selfie and ran it through like twenty filters, finished it off with a moonface app and then painted that.”

Callum shifted to make eye contact with her, but she didn’t look up, hoping he didn’t notice her blinking back tears and blocking her stupid emotions with a joke.

“Are you serious?”

“...no, but what you said sounded _pretentious_ and you know I hate that shit.”

“Sorry, Rayla, but if I was right you _are_ pretentious.”

She smacked his chest, lightly. “Is _that_ pretentious?”

“Depends… did it mean something _deeper_ that I just can’t comprehend?”

Rayla ran a fingertip down his chest, down his stomach, and hit the hem of his boxers.

“Do you want it to?”

================

“Okay! Enough _lovemaking_ shit, Cal! I like it- I do! A lot! But sometimes I just need to _fuck,_ okay? Can we do that, please? Now? I- I won’t press you, but could we try? You can lead?”

Callum felt his eyebrows rise over his coffee- they’d been playing two-on-one footsies under the table for ten minutes, and apparently Rayla had had enough- both of that and their current pace of bedroom play. She fidgeted in her seat, eyes rising to his and flicking away again repeatedly, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah, of course, Rayla- just… ease into it, alright?”

She perked up completely, clearly not expecting a positive response. “Y-yeah! We’ll start at like a three or four, don’t worry!” And with that, she stood, taking their long-finished dishes to the sink.

Callum chuckled- Rayla was very… active, despite her injury, and while he loved to sate her needs, watching her bodily tense and release through their sessions, he knew this had been slowly building up for her- she’d been a little more forceful, on occasion, but _never_ close to what he’d call ‘rough.’ Rayla was always carefully considerate of him, and never lost her patience, even when he could tell she wanted to.

“I’ll be _wai-ting!”_ She sing-songed, crutch-hopping into the bedroom.

Callum felt his own pulse quicken as he recalled, _quite_ clearly, the way she would gasp his name and squirm against him. Feeling his body respond, he followed Rayla, and found her kneeling on the edge of her bed, facing away from him- her pants and underwear had mysteriously vanished.

“Oh no,” she continued in her playful mock-serious voice, “I’m falling!” She made eye contact over her shoulder, and Rayla bent over and dropped her hands to the bed, sliding them forward, eventually resting on her elbows, openly presenting herself to him. “ _Whatever_ shall I do?”

They’d never… made love this way, exactly, but Callum felt a tiny, instinctive pull from the back of his mind, and he knew exactly what to do.

Rayla chuckled and wagged her rear end back and forth invitingly while he struggled out of his clothes. “I’m not running, Callum, don’t hurt yourself.”

Tossing his briefs aside, he approached, careful of her bad foot. He reached for the headboard, but found their usual packet of contraceptives absent. “Uh, Rayla? Where’s-”

Her leg hooked around his, drawing him towards her, and she ground herself back against his length. Callum instinctively grabbed her hips and bucked against her before remembering himself.

She chuckled again. “Good start there, but nuh uh on the rubber. Today’s _special._ ”

He’d heard about Moonshadow cycles being linked to the moon itself, but that all seemed like nonsense- a myth.

“Rayla, I’m not willing to risk our futures on-” he groaned as she pressed against him once more, arching her back to run herself along his length. “-On an urban legend.”

“Wha-? Oh pfft, _Callum._ You can’t seriously think I believed that moon crap? _I got the implant_.”

“Oh.” That was something they’d discussed- a months-lasting contraceptive that worked particularly well for Moonshadow elves, but not so much for the other races. “Well. In that case…”

He knew what she’d asked for, but he still wanted to show some love and leaned over her back, planting kisses from her ass to her shoulders. She giggled when he responded to her movements against him, and he could feel just how soaked she’d become at this prospect.

Kissing the tip of one ear, the furthest he could reach, he murmured a request for consent. “Ready?”

“Yessss,” she hissed, and dropped her chest to the bed, arching her back further and exposing herself more fully to him.

“Knees together, then.”

She glanced over her shoulder, wide-eyed, but did as he bade, lifting her ass a bit higher into the air.

His member pushed into her easily, and he watched her hands fist in the sheets. She didn’t protest, so he slowly worked his way deeper, dragging himself out nearly completely, relishing her silken folds against his skin for the first time since their original encounter, before pushing further.

Each plunge was a test as she contracted around him, but eventually she gasped aloud when his hips slapped against her, and they both groaned in ecstasy as his full length twitched, completely enfolded in Rayla.

He was ever-attentive, and not being able to see her face was throwing him off. She twitched and spasmed beneath him, but he needed to be _sure._ “You good?”

A shaky thumbs-up rose above her head. “Uugh, _yes,_ Callum! _Fuck me,_ already! Don’t hold back, _please!_ ”

That was enough of an answer, and his hands resettled on her hips. He worked himself into rhythm, faster and harder, encouraged by her gasps and pleas for more, but he couldn’t hold back and swore under his breath, feeling his entire lower body throb, releasing himself within her, unprotected, for the first time.

His hips jerked with shorter strokes, and he felt his blood begin to cool...but he didn’t want to let Rayla down- she had been so _patient_ with him. He could be assertive, for her.

She’d pushed herself up onto her hands, again, looking back at him with a smug grin. “Already? Aw, Cal, that’s so cu- ah!” He’d thrust into her again, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Callum?”

“ _Rayla,_ ” he growled, and looped his arms around her stomach, pulling her upright, bringing her neck within his reach. Her back arched to accommodate the position, and he plunged into her, kissing the most sensitive spots he could from behind.

“Fuck, Callum, _yes!”_ Her hands came up and fisted into his hair, and Rayla tilted her head to give him better access.

He thanked whatever part of his body was in charge of not letting him go completely limp as his breath came in hard puffs.

_“Cal, m-more!”_

...the _hell_ was he supposed to do for ‘more’ _now?_ He thought back to their first night, when he’d ‘overstimulated’ her, as she’d put it… ah.

Callum trailed his hands up from her hips, running them over her breasts, her cheeks, up into her hair, his arms now hooked under her own.

“Huh?” was all Rayla managed to get out before his thumbs pressed gently to the base of both horns. She tensed up completely, wringing his length within her almost painfully, fists pulling at his hair, mouth open in a silent scream- she jerked once, twice, then went completely boneless and collapsed onto the bed. Callum was equally down for the count, completely out of breath and covered in rapidly-cooling sweat.

On shaky legs, he fetched a few flimsy sport towels for cleanup, dropping one into her hands and toweling off the side of her could see before drying himself and lying next to her, running a hand slowly up and down her back.

Rayla’s breath had gone relatively normal, and she’d crammed the extra towel between her legs.

“I can already tell this is gonna be a huge mess,” she grumbled.

“But did you like it?”

“Oh we’re never _not_ doing that, with this implant, just letting you know you’ve got some cleanup responsibilities from now on.”

He chuckled. “Noted- I liked it, too.”

Rayla’s eyes cracked open, and she watched him struggle for breath. “You look beat.”

“I _am_ beat! I need to-” he wheezed “-start training, or something.”

“I’ve got a regimen in mind for you,” she teased, shaking her hips back and forth.

Callum rolled on top of her, wrapping his arms under her to secure the hug, and sighed happily into her hair. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

“Best way to go, in my book.”

“After that?” He gave her a full-body squeeze. “You might be right.”

================

================

“Whatever happened to Rayla, dude? You guys were tight for a while, there.”

Callum paused, fingers over the keyboard, then he gave up and spun in his chair to face Soren.

“You know that thing where you just want some casual fun and the girl gets all clingy and wants to get married?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m the girl, in our situation.”

Callum spun back to his laptop, hoping that was enough of an explanation.

“Wait, you proposed?”

“What? No, Soren, but… I brought it up, and… she freaked out. Badly. I’m just… giving her space.”

“But… I thought she was seeing-”

Callum clenched his teeth. “I _know_ , please don’t remind me.”

His friend’s large hand closed on Callum’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, dude. You… don’t deserve that. If you ever wanna talk about it, just… let me know, alright? I won’t try to hook you up with anyone again, we can just talk.”

Callum glanced at _that_ sketchbook, untouched for three weeks now, and he sighed. “Thanks, Soren. I’ll let you know.”

He’d take it down again, just to look.

Maybe. One day.

Or maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't see things ending 'well' for this version of Rayllum, but at least they helped each other grow... hopefully.
> 
> I pulled inspiration for their issues and unhealthy mindsets/mentalities from... everywhere, really. Real life xp, other fics, discord chats...
> 
> See everyone next time for a CONSIDERABLY happier story.


	5. Artistry pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla and Callum just haven't been the same since... that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sike_

================

“From a technical perspective it’s perfect, but…”

Callum sighed, slumping in his seat. “There’s no magic.”

His art mentor, Professor Ibis, adjusted his glasses and turned away from the piece to address his pupil. “Just so.” Leaning on his desk, the man steepled his fingers. “What happened? You’ve been in this funk for months now.”

Callum looked down, between his feet. “Bad breakup, that’s all.”

A hum from the older man. “This was Rayla, I assume?”

The involuntary flinch at her name was all the answer Callum needed to give.

“I understand. You were _very_ happy whenever I spoke to you with her present.” _Way to rub it in…_ The faculty member grabbed his mouse and clicked through whatever site or program he was looking at.

“I’m not going to tell you to quit, Callum- you may just need a break, or a change of pace. Have you ever considered another line of study? Even temporarily?”

Callum blinked. “Honestly? No. Art has always been a part of my life… I can’t imagine _not_ doing it, but I wouldn’t call _that_ -” he gestured at the piece he’d brought in “-art.”

“Hmm…” Ibis scrolled his mousewheel. “How about industrial design? For manufacturing and such. That’s typically a calculated field with less demand for...‘magic,’ as you put it.”

"Couldn't hurt, could it? Anything's better than _this_." He gestured towards the soulless piece again. “I’ll start tomorrow.”

================

Rayla pulled into the lot and shifted to 'park,' then sat back with a sigh.

"So? Wanna come upstairs?"

"No thanks, Timor. Good night."

But he wasn't going to let things end there, this time. "Rayla, we've been seeing each other for _months_ and we haven't so much as _kissed._ I'm done waiting around. Either start opening up, or-"

"Kiss me, then." She turned in her seat to face the other Moonshadow, a year older and a bit broad-shouldered for one of their kind. He had bright prospects and was generally considered her male counterpart by their peers in academia and, formerly, sports alike.

He frowned, thin white eyebrows knitting together, but did as she asked, leaning across the center console and cupping her cheek.

Rayla lifted her lips to his, and tried to respond, but felt… nothing. Cold and numb where she needed warm and electric. As she expected. He pushed for more, but she pulled away, shaking her head.

That confirmation was all she needed- this had dragged on long enough. "You see, don’t you? Goodbye, Timor. We're through."

His confusion twisted in anger, but he only straightened his jacket and shoved his door open. "Goodbye, Rayla." And he was out of her life.

She watched him stalk away without looking back, then let her forehead fall to rest on the steering wheel.

Why was this happening? Where was the _fire?_

Where had the _magic_ gone?

================

================

================

================

With a deep breath, he relished the Katolin night air and settled into continuing his report.

"Callum?"

He startled at her voice, having never expected to hear it again, but looked up from his laptop, and there she was. Rayla. Features more delicate- her chin sharper, ears thinner and longer- but Rayla all the same.

A slinky, short-cut cocktail dress was visible in the gap of her coat. She opened the cafe's terrace gate, stepping up off the sidewalk. No crutches anymore, apparently.

"Can we talk?"

He gestured to the seat across from his, but she shook her head, eyes flicking to the other customers nearby.

"Somewhere… private?"

Callum eyed her pursed lips, furrowed brows, and fists clenched around her handbag's strap. But she didn't look away.

“Why are you here?”

It was a fair question, but she still flinched. “International conference. I… may have asked around about you.”

He closed his laptop and grabbed the bill. "Just let me pay, I'll be right out."

She followed him inside anyways, but waited at the door, and fell in beside him on the sidewalk.

He made a show of glancing towards her foot. "You're good to walk? It won't be far."

"I can manage a couple miles."

He led her towards a lesser-known clubhouse, hoping his simple button-down and slacks would make dress code. With soft music, low lighting, and partitioned social spaces, the place was perfect for private meetings.

The receptionist recognized him, luckily, and shot him a knowing look as they took Rayla's coat, too smug for Callum's liking.

The pair moved to a secluded nook along the raised edge of the room, with a few pieces of plush furniture around a low table. They were essentially alone in the small space, with one open wall, but a curtain was available to close that off as well.

"This okay?"

When she nodded, Callum took a seat at one end of the small couch, expecting her to take the single-seater, and startled when she chose directly next to him on the couch.

An immaculately-dressed staffer interrupted before he could question her. "May I take your orders?"

He responded automatically. "Ah, two of whatever sweet cocktails you recommend. Two _different_ drinks, please. Thank you."

Turning from the server, Callum found Rayla staring at him wide-eyed, and realized he'd ordered exactly the same way they used to, when they were _together_.

He glanced down at the _small_ space between them and she blushed, scooting away but staying on the couch with him.

Since they'd both properly embarrassed themselves, he prompted her to continue where they'd left off. "Well?"

================

She had nothing to lose, at this point, and had promised herself to hold nothing back from him anymore. Not again. Rayla locked her eyes with his.

"I know it sounds crazy, but… it's been hard, living without you, Callum, and I- I want to try us again, if you'd have me."

He stared at her, disbelief on his face. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"Wh-"

His voice lowered. "Rayla, it's been _four years_ since you pushed me away and disappeared from my life. You never answered my calls, you ignored my texts, you…" his eyes unfocused, and he sagged back into his seat. "Okay, that sounds weird when I say it out loud, but I stopped, didn't I? Pretty quickly, too."

"Timor."

Callum nodded. "Still with him?"

"No. Didn't last."

"Sounds about right, for you."

That… hurt to hear. But he was right. Rayla twisted her bag's strap in her hands.

Callum covered his face with a hand. "I'm sorry, Rayla, that wasn't fair. We've _not_ known each other far longer than we've known each other, at this point. We're basically strangers, now."

Again, technically correct, but… wrong, this time.

"Are we?" She shuffled closer, just barely. "You seem pretty familiar, to me."

Callum's eyes wandered over her from between his fingers, and he opened his mouth to speak-

"Your drinks." She didn't listen to the server’s descriptions, never moving her eyes from Callum.

She _did_ take the opportunity to reach down and slip her feet from their too-tight shoes while Callum interacted with the staff, and she relished the soft rug through the sheer fabric of her pantyhose.

Callum sipped one of the drinks and hummed appreciatively before setting it closer to her. "Not bad, you'd like it-" he caught himself, grimacing. "-unless your tastes have changed."

"No," she murmured, again edging closer. "Not at all."

He rolled his eyes, catching her meaning, and actually _smiled_ before looking away and clearing his throat.

"Rayla, this _can't_ be as simple as you just coming out of the blue and picking up where we left off."

"Why not? If you tell me to leave, I'll leave, but I want things to work between us."

"Because-" he sighed. "-because how am I supposed to trust you again, after that? You meant _the world_ to me, and…"

"I know."

"Then _why?"_ The pain in his voice was worse than she'd braced herself for, but she pushed on.

"Because it was _heavy,_ Callum. Your love. I couldn't… respond to you properly-" He snorted "-and I just couldn't handle another weight on my shoulders. Not then. Not like that.” And something she hadn’t even realized, herself, until this moment. “You… _pushed_ me harder than I could handle, with the marriage talk. We seem to do that to each other."

He turned back to her then, shocked, his mouth opening and closing in that _ridiculous_ way it did when he couldn’t find the right words. She watched the apparent revelation settle on him, his shoulders sagging, and he reached for the second drink, taking a more hearty swig.

"So you ran."

"I ran." She agreed. "I ran, and I tried to move on, but…"

Silence stretched between them, and Callum sat bolt upright when her toes touched his ankle.

She took a sip of the drink he recommended and moved her foot, drawing a line up his leg with her big toe, the way he used to like...

And then he was leaning into her, one arm along the back of their couch behind her, his leg forced under her own that she’d lifted to tease him, arresting her foot in midair. She quickly shoved her bag between her knees to preserve some dignity, but couldn’t look away from the swirling storm in his eyes, so _close_ now.

His voice was low again, dangerous, with a hint of _threatening._ "Are you trying to seduce me?"

Rayla felt her pulse pick up, from that one quick movement, and forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath, glancing at his lips. “...I wish…”

Callum blinked, and his intensity softened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I wish we could go back to that night.”

He frowned.

“When you left?”

Rayla slowly shook her head, eyes darting between his.

“The first night. When we knew almost nothing about each other. Just… two people, sharing a meal, talking about life.”

His arm on the couch moved, and she expected to feel his hand in her hair, but it must have stopped short.

“So I…” she blinked tears out of her eyes. “So I could treat you well, from the beginning, without all the pain, and- and-”

Callum only watched her, and she sensed him growing colder, but she needed to tell him everything.

“And then everything might be different.” A single unbidden tear rolled out of the corner of her eye, but she tried to smile for him. “You wouldn’t have had to deal with all my _shit_ , and maybe I wouldn’t have gotten hurt, and… things could have just… been… perfect...”

The last words fell breathlessly from her lips as she leaned into him-

-but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s get out of here.”

That was... more forward than she expected from him, but not unwelcome.

================

Callum flicked on the lights of his studio and immediately knelt next to Rayla, reaching for her feet… but she didn’t need his help anymore, did she? He removed her shoes anyways, purposefully _not_ thinking about her tight grasp on his shoulders and the hem of her dress not a hand’s length away from his face.

He stalked across the oversized work area to his living space and dropped his laptop bag, listening to Rayla slowly walk around the room.

“No pieces around? Selling too well?”

She was looking at all the blank canvases he’d prepped, but never worked on.

“There’s nothing to sell.”

Rayla turned away from his setup of tools and colors, an eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”

He took her jacket, giving it a proper place on his coat rack. “I’ve got nothing, Rayla. I haven’t been able to create anything _real_ in… years.”

When he returned from the rack, he found her eyes wide in horror. “You’re… not saying…”

“Apparently,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I wasn’t joking when I called you my muse.” He smirked when she cringed and turned away, taking some small, sick pleasure in her discomfort.

“But art isn’t why you’re here.”

“...no.”

Callum turned Rayla around with a hand on her shoulder, then pressed forward, a knee between her legs, backing her against the wall.

“C-Callum?”

“ _This_ is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

She reached to embrace him, but he caught her wrists and pinned them to the wall on either side of her head. He wasn’t the bean sprout he’d been, those years before, and she wasn’t the strapping recent-athlete any longer, but neither mattered much, as she didn’t struggle.

Rayla’s eyes widened as his leg shifted her dress, pressing against her core.

“Isn’t it?”

Her eyes dropped to their point of contact, and she gasped, her breath shortening already, when he ground his thigh into her. Typical Rayla.

He lifted her hands above her head and captured them both in a single grip. Rayla’s shocked face jerked up when he placed his palm, fingers pointed downwards, on her stomach.

She lunged up to kiss him but he leaned away, and she whined in frustration. “ _Why?”_

“Because we aren’t together. No kissing, no ‘main attraction.’ But don’t worry,” he dropped his mouth next to her ear, “I’ll give you what you want.”

Rayla writhed in his grasp, increasing their friction but not truly struggling, as he slid his hand down, down, hooking under the hem of her dress and lifting it out of the way. He found her _soaked,_ apparent even through her panties and hosiery.

“Eager as ever- I’m sure your lovers have been pleased.”

“N-no, I-” she gasped as he ran a finger along her seam, over the multiple layers of clothing, and he thumbed where he knew her delicate nub would be.

Even for Rayla, she must have gone a few days without so much as relieving herself if she was already this close. He touched her more decisively while she squirmed, and blew a cool stream of breath across the length of her flicking ear.

“C-Callum, I-”

She was rutting against him, and hunched over as far as her trapped hands would allow. Trembling, eyes squeezed tight, jaw clamped shut, she rode out her release as tensed-up as possible, but Callum only redoubled his efforts. Her eyes slammed open, locking onto his, and her mouth worked soundlessly- she blinked hard, once, and then her eyes rolled up slightly as she went limp.

Callum took her wrists in both hands again and slowly lowered her to the ground before turning away from her to freshen up. But… he stopped, looking down at the hand he’s mercilessly stimulated her with, vaguely aware of Rayla’s lingering scent on his fingertips. He looked back over her, slumped and panting harshly, hair a haphazard mess, scratches on the wall from her horns… and he _felt_ it again, after all this time.

================

Rayla gasped, frustrated with how long it took to catch her breath these days, and tried to register exactly _what_ had just happened. She’d thought herself broken for so long, her body unresponsive and cold to both her own touch and others in general, that this just didn’t feel _real._ The veritable puddle between her legs couldn’t be _hers,_ could it?

She looked up at a clattering sound from the middle of the room. Callum was opening his racks of paints- rows and rows of oil tubes, exactingly arranged by shade and hue. He selected a blank canvas and rigged it into his easel, then got to work without wasting any time.

It started the same as always, to her- a mess of lines that made absolutely no sense. She struggled to her feet, watching him work, but knew he was off and alone in his world of artistry- there was no point even calling his name.

Limping over to his living space, Rayla hesitated at the bed before turning away- he’d made his boundaries very clear. Instead, she grabbed a throw blanket and sank into a low, overstuffed armchair, drawing the matching automan close and letting her legs stretch out on the makeshift lounge.

Rayla watched him work, hyper-focused as ever, and let her hand drift down over her stomach. She’d had trouble bringing herself to climax for over a year, now, every session a struggle that often ended in her frustrated surrender to her stubborn body’s unwillingness to cooperate.

And all Callum needed to do was _look_ at her, _touch_ her, and it was like nothing was ever wrong to begin with- she’d melted in his hands, weakened as much by her surprise as the strength of her response, after so long. 

It wasn’t _fair._

This must be what people meant when they said ‘wound up’ or ‘backed up.’ That one orgasm had felt like two or three together…

...but she’d missed so many, _many,_ more, over the years, and now the dam had broken.

Rayla shuddered under her own fingers, and she watched Callum’s hands move over the canvas furiously, agitated, unlike any way she’d seen him create before.. She longed for that almost-physical attention to wash over her again, like it had in the past, and carefully tugged her pantyhose down, working her hand into her underwear.

She marveled at her body’s renewed responsiveness and sensitivity, her breath hitching as she caressed herself beneath the blanket.

If Callum was going to stay up and work, she may as well, too...

================

Rayla blinked awake, flustered to find one hand still trapped in her panties, and tugged it free, sitting up. A fluffy comforter covered her now, and a horn-safe pillow had found its way beneath her head.

Callum was spread out face-down across his bed, incidentally showing off just how much his body had grown by taking up as much of the mattress as possible. She rolled her eyes and stumbled towards his wash room, then froze- he’d kept her old overnight bag, from all those years ago, after she’d told him to just throw all her things away the night she’d left.

She lifted the small duffel from the table where he’d left it for her, holding it tightly to her chest, and felt tears welling up. Over a stupid bag and some clothes. But she hopped into his washroom all the same for a shower, hoping the clothes would fit afterwards. The bra certainly didn’t, but she pulled off the rest.

Callum was sitting up at the edge of his bed, yawning, when she made her way over to him. Rayla startled when he slipped a hand around her knees and leaned his head to her hip, again feeling her body respond to his touch. “Morning,” he yawned, and blinked rapidly as she ruffled his shorter-but-still-fluffy hair.

He let go and shifted away in one movement, staring up at her.

“This… isn’t a dream.”

She smirked playfully. “Nope. Sorry?”

When Rayla stepped closer, he looked away, so she moved to inspect his overnight work instead. It was her, this time, in an incorrectly-formed ballet leap, very acrobatically arching her back, arms and one leg creating an almost-circle. The background was a distorted heat-shimmer effect, and as she looked closer, the blush on her face, and the rivulets of sweat on her body gave the piece quite an… erotic effect.

“It’s not done.” He was standing with her, now, hands on his hips.

“Of course, you’ve not put twelve hours into it yet. Don’t burn yourself out, okay?” It was a younger version of herself, but he’d gotten the sensitive bits right enough.

“I’m not finishing it.”

She spun, but he didn’t meet her eyes, staring at the piece. “Why not?!”

“Because now I have my answer- why I haven’t been the same. I don’t have the magic anymore. You took it with you. I’m just… borrowing it.”

Rayla blinked, shocked that he’d been thinking the same word she had all along. “You believe in magic?”

 _That_ made him look. “No, don’t be silly. I just meant the… the spark. The little... ball of energy that pours ideas and shapes into my head. It’s not there when you’re gone, and I have to force things.” He sighed. “Dead things, without life. Without the spark. Without the… magic.” Callum gestured to the work-in-progress. “Nothing like this.”

She looked between him and the art, feeling too many emotions roiling within her. “Callum, if… there was a spell… a magic spell…”

“Cut the poetic crap, Rayla, it doesn’t suit you.” Her mouth shut, and she swallowed back her retort as he continued. “You know who else I’ve heard all that from? Claudia. Yes, _that_ Claudia.” He wrung his hands, and Rayla’s eyes zeroed in on his fingers, relieved to find no glittering metal there.

“So don’t bother.” He raised his pitch, but didn’t imitate her accent, so it must be Claudia. “‘I’ve grown, I’ve learned my lesson, I should’ve always treated you well, I’ll never hurt you again, Cal!’” His face twisted in a grimace. “ _Please._ ”

Rayla made a mental note to _never_ call him ‘Cal’ again, and felt a cold tendril of trepidation coiling in her stomach.

“I-” she swallowed again, knowing it all needed to be said. “I’m... _not_ all that different, really. Still a simple girl who enjoys simple things.” His mouth quirked at the way she’d always referred to her high sex drive. “I still watch the same stupid movies, and I’ve been training again. Can’t compete with this, though.” She waggled her foot with a wince. “But… I miss you, Callum. Terribly. Nothing’s the same, without you in my l-life.” 

This all sounded so… _cheesy._ But it was true. “It’s all… gray, and sad, and dull, and… the _fire_ is gone, Callum. Like your spark. I…” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I don’t have all the words to describe it, but… no one else can do the things you do to me.”

Callum’s eyes held hers, and she may have imagined them softening before he stepped around her to start packing the art supplies. “Yeah, same Rayla, masturbating herself into a coma.”

So he’d… seen that. She flushed, but didn’t look away. “That’s right. Even now I want us naked in your bed, but-” she swallowed the rest.

“But?”

 _That_ threw her off. “...but you already said no? Last night?”

His hands paused, and he continued packing with a nod. “That’s why you’re nothing like Claudia, Rayla. After that... second night, you always _listened._ Thank you for that.”

“That’s… not something you thank people for, Callum. It’s just basic decency.”

He snorted, chuckled, and then laughed, stumbling away from the paints. It wasn’t a good laugh, and Rayla’s heart ached as it echoed through the room, watching him catch his breath against the wall he’d pushed her into the night before.

“You’re right, of course, but I’m just too… _was_ just too stupid to know that. Naive.” He brought a hand up to the back of his head, and the pale line of flesh on his third finger was stark against the backdrop of his dark hair.

Rayla’s throat tightened, but she managed to croak out her question. “How long? Your marriage.”

Callum turned back to her, taking his left hand in his right. “You saw?” She nodded. “Year and a half. The divorce finalized three weeks ago.”

“A-any… kids?”

He side-eyed her. “Does it matter?”

She looked down at her feet. “I don’t have any.”

“Impressive.”

Rayla frowned at him. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

A corner of his mouth pulled back as he shot her an unimpressed look. “You’re so… _active_ I’m just surprised you haven’t had any ‘accidents,’ that’s all.”

Better time than never, she supposed. “Callum, I… haven’t _been with_ anyone since I left.”

He sighed heavily, sagging over his tools. “Rayla, what did I _just_ tell you about skipping the lies? That’s such obvious bullshit-”

“I’m _not_ lying!” How was she supposed to make him believe her? It wasn’t _fair,_ that he had an empty portfolio as proof that she’d fucked him up, but she had… nothing, for the reverse. Except her history of failed relationships. That was... something.

She took a double-fistful of his shirt and jerked him around, forcing him to look at her.

“I _tried,_ Callum! Timor left me cold, I felt nothing for Darex, Julianne was funny but in a _sisterly_ way, Arvol was just creepy, Zoline wouldn’t even _hold hands,_ I slapped Yoro the moment he touched me, Pria just wanted to _brag-_ ” 

Rayla sank to her knees, dragging Callum down with her, sobbing into his shirt and shaking him back and forth for emphasis. “-and I couldn’t even get _myself_ off until you- you just jam your hand on my bits and they turn to _mush_ when it’s been like squeezing water from a _desert_ _rock_ for me for over a _year_ and it’s _not fair_ how you can do that to me like it’s _nothing..._ ”

He held her by the shoulders as she wept.

“I don’t have any kids either.”

She sniffled. “I know. You don’t have any pictures around, and you’re too much of a sap to not have a thousand.”

“True.”

Rayla resigned herself to lay against him as long as he’d allow, stealing one last bit of intimacy, and she almost startled to feel him shift into a more comfortable position. She _did_ gasp when one hand left her shoulder to comb through her hair. The way he used to.

“That must have been hard. For you, especially.”

Not trusting her voice, she nodded into his chest.

“So why now?”

Her throat was still too tight now, so Rayla agonizingly sat back, regretting the loss of his hand. She frowned, dredging up the Human sign language she’d learned behind his back so long ago, planning to talk to his Aunt herself someday. It was sloppy, with Elven hands, but she did her best.

_Hurt many. Need you._

Callum stared at her, not responding, so she tried repeating herself, but he caught her hands almost angrily.

“ _Why do you know sign?_ ”

Unsure of his sudden intensity, she shrugged and wormed her hands from his.

_Aunt._

He frowned, but backed off. “That’s a weird way to try to win me back.”

_No. Learn old._

Catching her meaning, Callum’s face slowly melted into disbelief. “Rayla… w-why-” his eyes welled up, and he threw his arms around her, tugging her almost painfully close. His face was wet against her neck, and her arms came up around him, one hand softly stroking through his hair.

“ _Why are you like this?”_ His choked voice was almost too much to bear. She signed against his chest, unsure if that was how it worked.

_Sorry._

Callum sobbed at her response, and she heard his unspoken question- _Why did you run? If you planned to stay?_

Rayla stilled. The answer that it was different if _she_ wanted it, instead of it being _expected_ of her... sounded so foolish and infantile in her head. Had she really let a feeling like that force them apart?

Her arms tightened as a memory bubbled up. _‘...that shouldn’t keep me from finding what happiness I can. That just means I’m letting the assholes win.’_

She was the asshole, keeping them both from finding happiness. Had _been_ the asshole. But no more.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ she whispered hoarsely, finally finding her voice, stroking his head and back. _“I’m so sorry.”_

Callum eventually caught his breath. “If- if you’re truly sorry, and… you _do_ wish, that we could go back to that first night, then-” he took a shaky breath and pulled back a bit, but didn’t dislodge her arms. The old edge was back in his eyes, tears and all. He’d made a decision. “Prove it.”

... _unfair,_ using her old words against her. How was she supposed to…?

“Stay with me.”

Callum’s lips were wet and salty with tears, but soft and pleading against hers. She responded eagerly, needily, taking in all of pain and grief, so relieved of his acceptance that her lingering shadow of hope came alive and nearly choked her, stealing her breath away as it grew into joy.

They panted for breath, laughing against each other as she crawled into his lap, locking her legs around his waist and just kissing him endlessly, running her hands through his hair and struggling to find ways to hold him ever-closer… and _he kissed her back_ , tenderly cupping the back of her head and stroking her back all the while.

And then her stomach growled, painfully loud in the empty room.

Callum only chuckled and rested his forehead against her burning face.

“Breakfast?”

Rayla nodded, letting a smile break through her embarrassment. She made to stand, but he clasped her against him.

“One last thing- you… didn’t actually answer. Will you? Stay, I mean?”

She leaned into another kiss, tender and slow, thrilling to feel him respond even after their current encounter.

“For as long as you’ll let me.”

================

He chuckled as she snatched the bit of fruit from the end of his fork like some kind of bird. Her eyes rolled as she hummed appreciatively, stretching out on the bed.

“Mmf. What was this called again? Some kind of apple?”

“They go by another name elsewhere, but in Katolis we call them ‘pineapples.’ Good, right?”

“Yeah, but _ugh,_ strong! I don’t think I could eat more than a couple pieces in one sitting.”

Callum accepted a grape from her fingers and settled his arm more tightly around her waist. It still didn’t feel real, somehow. 

Just yesterday was another dull day of trying to find some direction in his life, and now… Rayla was not only back in his world, she was _with_ him, and it felt like these last years of… _no-Rayla_ just hadn’t happened. 

His head was overflowing with creative energy again, and not all centered around Rayla herself. She just… brought it back to life in him, like flipping a switch only she could see.

Like magic.

“It stuck with me, you know. Your diet.”

Rayla slowed her chewing, eyeing him, but smiled. “I’m sure your body thanks you for it.”

He lifted an arm to flex his meager bicep, smirking. “It’s alright, I guess.”

“Mm, yeah.” Rayla squeezed the somewhat-perceptible muscle. “Not bad, sprout.”

Callum raised his eyebrows at the old pet name. “Oh _really?_ Still a ‘bean sprout’ eh? Will I _ever_ get to be a ‘beanstalk,’ or am I forever condemned to sproutitude?”

“Oh, I’m sure you can find plenty of ways to prove your ‘growth’ to me…” she hooked a finger into his collar and teased along its edge, then remembered herself and paused, blinking up at him. “Um, only if you’re up for it, of course.”

He wasn’t... entirely certain. But they had time, now. “Maybe after breakfast?”

Rayla’s tiny smile broke wide across her face, and she nodded. “Okay. Here?” He took another offered bite, then caught her wrist and sucked the juice from her fingertips, enjoying the flush that grew on her cheeks and the way her ears perked up in surprise.

That small nudge was enough to make up his mind, and he set their breakfast bowl aside and sat up, coaxing her over to straddle him. “I thought you said _after_ breakfast?”

Rayla’s eyes fluttered shut as his hands roved up and down her back under her top. “Changed my mind- take off your shirt?” She did, and he blinked in surprise to have his suspicions confirmed. “No bra?”

Was she… smug? “Old one from the bag is too small, now.”

“I can see that.” It wasn’t like she’d gotten _large_ , but she’d always been… _lean_ , so even small changes were apparent.

“Well, I c _ould_ wear it, but nah, not worth the discomfort if we’re staying insi- _nng!”_ She gasped and cupped his head when he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud. “Oh, _Callum…_ ”

Without releasing her, he glanced to the side and pawed at their breakfast bowl, grabbing a piece of fruit. Leaning back, he pressed the juicy piece to her other breast, tracing it around the stiffening peak, where he mashed the juicy bit before popping it into his mouth.

Rayla twitched as he caught the running juices with his tongue, groaning sweetly as he cleaned up the mess he’d made. “Still h-hungry?”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he mumbled lazily against her chest. “Mm?” She took an offered berry between her teeth while he kissed along her collarbone.

“Even up, Callum, shirt off.” He leaned back to fulfill her request, and Rayla pressed him down to the mattress, moving to kiss him with a larger piece of fruit held between her lips. Trying to take it completely, he startled when she bit into the piece as well, spurting juice across his chin.

“Ah, oops… I’ll just…” She kissed the errant spattering from his chin, licking up a longer trail before it could run down his jaw.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Who, me?” Mischief glimmered in her eyes. “I’d _never._ ”

Rayla’s eyes widened when he bucked his hips up against her, and the smirk on her face wobbled. “Done eating, then?”

“I’m afraid you’d just dump the bowl on my face if I dragged this out any longer.”

“Won’t say you’re wrong about that…”

She leaned down for a kiss and groaned into his mouth as his hands ran up her legs and ass. Rolling away, Rayla practically tore at the series of buttons on her pants while Callum shrugged easily out of his sweats and briefs, chuckling at her frantic movements.

“I’m not running, Rayla, don’t hurt yourself.”

He felt his grin widen as she glared, pouting. “No change in that memory, huh? Just going to say my stupid words back to me from now on?”

“Have to make _some_ changes, now…” Rayla groaned in frustration as he thumbed her nipple, and batted his hands away when he moved to help her undress.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it… ugh, how did I get these _on?!_ ” She did eventually succeed, and rolled back on top of him still wearing her panties- a lacy pair he knew was at the bottom of her preference list, thus the banishment to her overnight bag. The awful beige color was all wrong against her skin tone, and she’d called the material ‘flimsy shite’ more than once.

 _That_ gave him an idea...

“Ah, dammit, let me-”

“No.” Callum’s hands closed on her hips, keeping her in place. “You don’t like this pair much, right?”

“Right. So?”

Rayla gasped as he took one side of the underwear in both hands and _tore_ them from her hip down, the old gauzy fabric easily coming apart, much to his relief. He did the same to the other side, tossing the ruined garment away.

“ _Fuck_ that was hot!” Her blush reached her ear tips as she smiled down at him, unrestrained. “I’d ask you to do it again, but…”

Callum sucked in a breath as she rolled her hips, the skin-to-skin contact edging him towards complete arousal. “Next time, then. Don’t wear anything too sturdy, though.”

She chuckled and let her eyes flutter shut, continuing to grind up and down his length. “Ah… I can feel you warmin’ up to me… it’s like I’m gonna get burned if we keep going…”

“It’s been a long time, right?” Rayla nodded. “Then don’t force it- I really won’t run away.” Another nod, and she leaned down to kiss him. Hands in each other’s hair, he felt her hips shift, attempting to catch him within her, so he arched his own to assist.

They shared a groan of pleasure as she sank onto him, just a bit, and she moaned into his ear. “Mm, this… almost doesn’t feel real.”

Pressing gentle kisses to her neck, he nodded into her shoulder as Rayla slowly took more of him within herself. “I- I know what you mean.” 

An instinctive thrust deeper into her earned a gasp and a fist lightly pounding his chest. “ _Callum!”_

“Sorry, sorry, it just… happened.”

“Oh? Then so did _this.”_ He tensed bodily when she tightened around him, pumping the length she’d managed so far- athlete or former athlete, she’d not let her core weaken much.

“Ray- _la!_ ” He growled, fingers digging into her hips. She knew what that did to him, and she let up.

“You’re right, we should savor this.” Rayla sat up, sighing happily, and took his hands in hers, weaving their fingers together. Taking him further, she leaned more weight onto their joined hands. “Let’s.. _Make love._ ”

================

The weekend was ending, but Rayla wasn’t leaving Katolis empty-handed. She looked down at the small ring on her finger, her promise to him, and sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

Nestling closer into Callum’s side, she draped an arm across his chest, sore in the best possible way for the first time in ages.

“What’s the word for when everything just… turns on a pin?” She wondered aloud. “You’re heading one way and then… everything changes?”

Callum turned to face her, smiling softly, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Magic, I think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _did_ like the last chapter as a stand-alone, but... it felt wrong to leave it how I did. Maybe I'm just a sap, maybe I can't help but self-indulge in whatever the heck I want with these, maybe I just hate sad endings.
> 
> Maybe I just can't live without a little... magic.
> 
> See you next time!


End file.
